She hesitated, but her eyes met his frankly. “I imagine that you will endeavour to give me a true impression.”
“Thank you. What happened, then, was that on Colonel Martyn’s mentioning your name, I asked whether you had travelled with them before?”
“And what was that to you?”
“Nothing. I have already expressed my regret at having put the question.”
“Go on.”
“Colonel Martyn, on his side, inquired whether I knew you, and from my answer jumped hastily at a conclusion which I imagine you will not require me to excuse?” She made an imperious gesture.
“I have told you that your own opinions do not concern me in the least. Come to something more definite.”
“But there was nothing more definite,” said Wareham, lifting his eyebrows. He let memory travel slowly over the conversation, picking up threads. “Colonel Martyn, in a discursive review of his dislike to travel, made an allusion to a matter in which you were concerned, and I replied that, as you were his wife’s friend, we had better drop the subject. Evidently he likes to emphasise the idea that he and his wife are two, and I imagine this led him to make the unfortunate remark you caught. Pray assure yourself that you have heard all there was to hear, and permit me to repeat how deeply I regret it.”
She did not at once answer. The vessel was passing through a marvellous cleft, precipitous rocks arose out of the clear water on either side. Wareham saw Mrs Martyn approaching, curiosity in her face. He waited for Anne to speak.
“I suppose I ought to thank you,” she said at last, slowly. “I suppose you tried to be fair. If you did not succeed, perhaps it was beyond your powers.”