"I hardly know; but they are all alive, at least. You have come straight from—where?"
"From abroad. I lived there for six years, first in one place, then in another—chiefly in Italy. My husband died eighteen months ago, but I stayed on with his people. It seemed then that they needed me most, but one can never tell, and I may have made a mistake in not coming home sooner."
"I think you did," he said quietly, running the end of his long whip through his fingers.
She flashed a disturbed glance at him.
"Is it possible that you are keeping something from me? Is any one ill?"
"Not that I have heard of, but I never see any of them, you know, except your brother."
"And he is married. They told me so at the cross-roads. I can't understand why they did not let me know."
"It was very sudden—they went to Washington."
"How queer! Who is the girl, I wonder?"
"Her name was Molly Peterkin—old Sol's daughter; you may remember him."