"Still, Jane, he was glad when she left Marshminster."
"Rather relieved, I think, Sophia."
"And poor Olivia Bellin knew nothing about his wickedness," they concluded together.
My heart beat rapidly. In this idle talk I saw a link which would bind Felix Briarfield to the girl at the Fen Inn.
"Was she a pretty girl?" I asked with well-simulated carelessness.
"Handsome is that handsome does," snorted Aunt Jane, who was remarkably plain herself.
"Sure, sister, she was not ill-looking," said the gentler Sophia, who had been a toast in her youth; "she had a good figure and dark hair and eyes. I admired her complexion, Jane! it was like cream, and a dimple here," finished Sophia, touching her chin, "a pretty-pretty dimple."
"Sophia!"
"Well, it was a pretty dimple, jane. No one can deny that."
In this description I espied Rose Strent, especially as regards the dimple. I had noticed it myself. Evidently there was an understanding between this woman and Felix which had led to her taking up her quarters in the Fen Inn with her father--if indeed the landlord was her father, a fact I was beginning to doubt. I set the garrulous ladies off on another tack.