She was trying to draw her hand away. Everard felt the strength of her muscles, and the sensation was somehow so pleasant that he could not at once release her.
“You do pardon me, Miss Nunn?”
“Please don’t be foolish. I will thank you to let my hand go.”
Was it possible? Her cheek had coloured, ever so slightly. But with indignation, no doubt, for her eyes flashed sternly at him. Very unwillingly, Everard had no choice but to obey the command.
“Will you have the kindness to tell me,” he said more gravely, “whether my cousin was suffering only from that cause?”
“I can’t say,” she added after a pause. “I haven’t spoken with Miss Barfoot for two or three days.”
He looked at her with genuine astonishment.
“You haven’t seen each other?”
“Miss Barfoot is angry with me. I think we shall be obliged to part.”
“To part? What can possibly have happened? Miss Barfoot angry with you?”