“Ada Warren.”
“It does not in the very least surprise me,” observed Mrs. Stratton, smiling urbanely.
“I don’t think I could say that. I am surprised. I believed Ada would stick to a purpose through thick and thin.”
“My dear, she accepted that man in a moment of pique, and she has very wisely repented whilst there is time.”
Isabel was silent.
“And her wanting to go to London,” pursued the other. “It’s all perfectly clear. She’s ashamed of herself; she can’t face you.”
Isabel seated herself and mused, the letter on her lap. Her cheek had a flush of excitement, and her eyes were very bright.
“Look at this, too,” she said, with a laugh, taking from its envelope another letter she was holding. “From Mrs. Bruce Page. I wonder she is not ashamed of herself, I really do!”
“My dearest Mrs. Clarendon,” ran this epistle, “it would be a mercy if you would let me know what your latest news is about that boy. Do you hear from or of him? Has he done anything surprising yet? I shouldn’t a bit wonder if he does—I mean in this affair. He is capable of anything. Do let me know at once if you have any curious news either from him or Ada.”
“It looks as if she anticipated it,” said Mrs. Stratton.