'I came to ask if you could tell me where Mrs. Strangeways is to be found?'
'Mrs. Strangeways?' Sibyl repeated, with cold surprise. 'I know nothing about her.'
Feeling in every way at a disadvantage—contrast of costume told in Sibyl's favour, and it was enhanced by the perfection of her self-command—Alma could not maintain the mockery of politeness.
'Of course, you say that,' she rejoined haughtily; 'and, of course, I don't believe it.'
'That is nothing to me, Mrs. Rolfe,' remarked the other, smiling. 'Doubtless you have your own reasons for declining to believe me; just as you have your own reasons for—other things. Your next inquiry?'
'Hasn't it been rather unwise of you, keeping away from me all this time?'
'Unwise? I hardly see your meaning.'
'It looked rather as if you felt afraid to meet me.'
'I see; that is your point of view.' Sibyl seemed to reflect upon it calmly. 'To me, on the other hand, it appeared rather strange that I neither saw nor heard from you at a time when other friends were showing their sympathy. I heard that you were ill for a short time, and felt sorry I was unable to call. Later, you still kept silence. I didn't know the reason, and could hardly be expected to ask for it. As for being afraid to meet you—that, I suppose, is a suspicion natural to your mind. We won't discuss it. Is there any other question you would like to ask?'
Humiliated by her inability to reply with anything but a charge she could not support, and fearing the violence of her emotions if she were longer subjected to this frigid insult, Alma rose.