Grace looked at her younger brother in a troubled fashion.
“I don’t understand,” she said, slowly. “Surely Valentine is only doing his simple duty by looking after poor Mark’s widow.”
“A widow who will not remain a widow long, if I am any judge of things.”
“What do you mean, Sacha?” Grace asked, this time in sharp vexation.
Sacha answered by another question.
“Do you really mean to tell me you cannot see what is likely to happen?”
Grace colored hotly now.
“I don’t pretend anything, Sacha. Yes, I do understand you, but you are quite, quite wrong. She cannot forget Mark. And you do Val a definite wrong.”
Sacha broke into a laugh.
“My dear girl,” he said, in his wisest way, “I accuse Valentine of nothing. Val is as honest as he is big, but despite his bigness he will be but a cipher in miladi’s pretty hands, for he is certainly not a man of the world, whatever else he may be. As to forgetting Mark—well, by this time we all know the truth about this marriage. Mark cared as much for his wife as his wife cares to remember his memory. I was in the house with them a good deal, and I am not inventing. It was a miserable marriage, and Lady Wentworth is quite right to try and console herself as quickly as possible. The fact that she might remain mistress of Sunstead is a most important factor in the working of her schemes, I assure you.”