"Yes."
"You had suspicions?"
"I knew what a happy home she had returned to."
Again she seated herself.
"She went there to ask about me," said Elgar, in a forced voice.
"You think so? Why to him? Wouldn't she rather have come to me? Why did she stay so long? Why did he go away with her? And why hasn't she returned home?"
Question followed question with cold deliberateness, as if the matter barely concerned her.
"But Mallard? What is Mallard to her?"
"How can I tell?"
"Were they together much in Rome?"