He was about to answer in his delirium when a sharp turn in the road brought them in view of the château. Not a hundred yards ahead of them two persons were riding slowly, unattended, very much occupied in themselves. Their backs were toward Chase and the Princess, but it was an easy matter to recognise them. The glance which shot from the Princess to Chase found a peculiar smile disappearing from his lips.
"I know what you are thinking," she cried impulsively "You are wrong—very wrong, Mr. Chase. Lady Deppingham is a born coquette—a born trifler. It is ridiculous to think that she can be seriously engaged in a—"
"It isn't that, Princess," he interrupted, a dark loo in his eyes. "I was merely wondering whether dear little Mrs. Browne is as happy as she might be."
Genevra was silent for a moment.
"I had not thought of that," she said soberly.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE BURNING OF THE BUNGALOW
He went in and had tiffin with them in the hanging garden. Deppingham was surly and preoccupied. Drusilla Browne was unusually vivacious. At best, she was not volatile; her greatest accomplishment lay in the ability to appreciate what others had to say. This in itself is a treat so unusual that one feels like commending the woman who carries it to excess.