Altogether the good woman felt that she had been snubbed for her pains. She had expected a great deal from Considine, and even more from Gabrielle. Still, if Considine objected to his wife being consulted, she was prepared to accept his decision. The only course that remained open to her was to make enquiries for herself, and determine, by observation, what women were possibly available for the disposal of Arthur's affections.
"Very well," she said with a sigh. "If you don't wish me to speak to your wife, of course I won't."
"If you'll pardon my saying so, I think you're unduly anxious. After all, the most obvious thing is to ask Arthur himself. Why not do that?"
She hesitated and then spoke the truth.
"I'm afraid he'd tell me a lie. I don't want him to do that … now. I'd much rather find out for myself. I wish I could believe you. I do indeed."
She paused for a moment and then said, almost as if she were speaking to herself, "There's no place where there aren't opportunities. Farmer's daughters … village girls. There are more women in the world than there are men."
He couldn't help smiling at the mathematical accuracy of her remark, but once more he shook his head.
"At any rate," she said, returning to the practical aspect of the case, "I suppose you've no objection to my staying here for a day or two, and keeping my eyes open. Failing anything else I will speak to Arthur about it."
"Please consider the house your own," said Considine, who had now recovered his usual politeness.
"Thank you," she said. "You're very kind. But you know how grateful I am to you already."