“You never asked me that question,” said Mrs Martyn.
“My dear lady, you never gave me the opportunity.”
While they laughed, Anne made a scarcely-perceptible sign to Wareham. He came close.
“What takes you back in such a hurry to England?”
He hesitated.
“Is it business which I should not understand?”
“Business which I can’t explain, would be nearer the truth.”
She leaned forward, dropping her eyes.
“Mr Forbes says that all his endeavours to keep you have been in vain. Are you inexorable? I believe we are going to the finest part of Norway. But perhaps you are afraid of another contretemps such as that of Monday?”
His head whirled; he dared not look at her. In an odd, strained voice he muttered something which sounded like “Perhaps.” She took no notice, but went on lightly—