"Yes. But I did n't say I had a headache."
"I know how you feel about that," he returned. "Leaving people to guess wrong lets you out in one way, and in another it does n't."
She appeared surprised at his directness. She had expected him to pass the incident over lightly.
"It was for Peter's sake, anyhow," she tried to justify her position. "But don't let me delay you, please. I know you 're off for your morning walk."
That was true. But he was interested in that statement she had just made that it was for Peter's sake she had remained behind. It revealed an amazingly dense ignorance of both her brother's position and Marjory's. On no other theory could he make it seem consistent for her to encourage a tête-à-tête between a married woman and a man as deeply in love with some one else as Peter was.
"Won't you come along a little way?" he asked. "We can turn back at any time."
She hesitated a moment—but only a moment.
"Thanks."
She fell into step at his side as he sought the quay.
"You've been very good to Peter," she said. "I've wanted a chance to tell you so."