“But Sir Robert doesn’t.”
Mrs. Hawkes looked at her.
“Well, there’s no need to be astonished, for he’s so short-sighted, and he lives so much shut up with his books and his collections, that he hasn’t much memory for anything else. He’s taken to collecting since you were here, miss, and he’s got a gallery of pictures that people come for miles to see. That’s what the north wing was built for, to put them in. And the south wing, that was for my lady’s dances. Not that she gives many of them now.”
There was a little constraint on both sides now that Rhoda had confessed that Sir Robert had failed to recognise her. Mrs. Hawkes looked disturbed. At last she said:
“I was wondering, if I may make so bold as say so, miss, whether Sir Robert would let you stay here again, if he was to remember you.”
Rhoda looked startled and uneasy.
“Why should he mind?” she asked quickly.
“Oh, only that he doesn’t in general like to be reminded of that time. And if he had recognised you, he couldn’t but have thought of it, could he?”
“N-no,” said Rhoda, beginning to feel nervous.
There was another silence, and then Mrs. Hawkes ventured: