“Quite sure, thank you.”
“Vernon, you know, would get down; he’d rather walk I’m certain.”
Olivia’s face became suddenly crimson.
“I couldn’t think of turning Mr. Brander out,” she said coldly.
“I should be delighted,” murmured Vernon in a low tone.
In spite of all her efforts to retain her self-command, Olivia shivered at the sound of his voice. She felt, although she never once looked at the face of either, that both the man and the woman were watching her intently. They had some suspicion of the knowledge she had so strangely obtained, she was sure. There was a pause, and then Mrs. Brander spoke again.
“You don’t look so well as usual this morning, Miss Denison,” she said, not quite able to keep curiosity and anxiety out of her tone. “You are quite pale. We miss your lovely roses.”
“I have had a bad night,” said Olivia, shortly, and with a sudden determination that it would be better to let them know all she had discovered.
The effort Mrs. Brander made to retain her usual calmness and coldness was piteous to see. Her beautiful features quivered; her great black eyes were dilated with apprehension.
“A bad night?” she repeated, inquiringly.