“Have you been here all the time, watching me, spying on me again?”
Her tone was not passionate, or even indignant. She was worn out, irritable, impatient. That was all.
“I got in when you got in. Yes, call it spying if you like, I followed you from Lady Jennings’ house.”
“Of course,” interrupted she impatiently. “I thought I had slipped away without your seeing me, but I might have known you were too clever for me. Pray, what made you come?”
She had dashed away her tears, sat up, and tried to resume her ordinary manner. She was evidently not sure how much he knew, and was trying to “bluff.”
Gerard looked down and answered quietly. He must tell her all he knew, in the hope that she would then admit the rest.
“I came because I knew—or at least I guessed—that you were going to meet someone, someone whom you saw from the window.”
She flushed with surprise.
“You have keen eyes!” she said sarcastically.
She might mean that he had seen more than there was to be seen, or merely that she admitted there was something to see which he had been quick to notice.