“Had your son confided in you his intentions on the subject?”
“I believe that if he had had any such intentions he would have; but no, he had not.”
“You were entirely in his confidence?”
“I hope so. I believe so.” The deep blue eyes hovered compassionately over the averted face strained toward the window, and then moved tranquilly back to meet the prosecutor’s.
“When this affair with Mrs. Bellamy was renewed in 1926, did he confide it to you?”
“Oh, no.”
“Showing thereby that you were not entirely in his confidence, Mrs. Ives?”
“Or showing perhaps that there was nothing to confide,” said Mrs. Daniel Ives gently.
The prosecutor jerked his head irritably. “The state is in possession of an abundance of material to prove that there was everything to confide, I assure you, Mrs. Ives. However, it is not my intention to make this any more difficult for you than is strictly necessary. How long ago did you come to Rosemont?”
“About fifteen years ago.”