“Is it,” she asked at length, “within your province to tell me any more than this?”
“I think,” Robert replied, “that I have nothing more to tell. If you wish it, I will leave this copy with you; I understood Mrs. Clarendon to say that you might keep it.”
“Thank you, I will do so.”
She rose and took it from his hand.
“There is one thing,” she said, “that I should like to ask you; I dare say you will have no objection to answer. Are the provisions of this will generally known—to Mrs. Clarendon’s friends, I would say?”
“In all probability they are,” was his reply.
“Thank you.”
Clearly there was nothing more to be said on either side. Any comment from Asquith was of course out of the question, and Ada, at all times so chary of her conversation, was not likely to give utterance to her feelings under the present circumstances. She moved away, slightly returned the other’s bow, and went from the room.
At luncheon Ada did not appear. It was not an uncommon thing for her to take meals by herself; but Mrs. Clarendon and Robert felt that her absence to-day had a significance. She was at dinner, however, and behaved as usual. Nothing in her betrayed a change in her state of mind.
Whilst Rhoda was reading in the garden in the afternoon, Mrs. Clarendon strayed apart with her cousin.