“Well, let me hear the guesses.”
“They say—people think—that the girl has been shut up, too.”
“In an asylum?” asked Clifford, hardly able to control his voice.
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe it!” said he, hoarsely.
“Well, isn’t it better than believing—anything else?”
“Believing—that she is a thief, a—”
Clifford could not go on.
“Do you know what happened on that morning when George Claris was found mad?” asked Miss Lansdowne, abruptly.
“The woman at the nearest cottage told me the story,” he answered, shortly.