Susan looked troubled. When she answered, it was falteringly, and without her usual openness.
"No, Miss." And she added uneasily, "I have never promised to be engaged to Gibson."
"But does Gibson expect that some day you will?"
"He oughtn't to, Miss," rejoined Susan, making shockingly quick progress in cunning.
"I mean, has Gibson talked to you in that way? And have you listened? Come, Susan, don't be silly. I am forced to ask these things. I've never seen Lord Ruddington, but from all I've heard of him he isn't the sort that would want to make himself happy by making another man miserable for life--not even if the other man is only Gibson. Lord Ruddington's letter is strange. For instance, it's rather stiff and dry, and like the letter of a much older man. But it rings true; it rings honourable. You must be honourable too. Otherwise the whole business will end in misery for everybody. Come, Susan. I don't want to preach a sermon, but you know as well as I do that if you and Gibson truly care for one another you will be a happier and better woman in a four-roomed cottage with Gibson than with Lord Ruddington at the Towers. Tell me how things stand."
After a struggle Susan blurted out:
"Yes, Miss, Gibson has asked me."
"When?"
"Well, Miss, the last time was last week."
"You didn't accept him. I've gathered that already. But did you give him a plain refusal?"