"He's very honest about it," said Warburton. "Makes no pretences—calls his painting a trick, and really feels surprised, I'm sure, that he's so successful."
"Poor Norbert! A good lad, a good lad. I wonder—do you think if I wrote a line, mentioning, by the way, that Rosamund's here, do you think he'd come?"
The speaker accompanied his words with an intimate glance. Will averted his eyes, and gazed for a moment at the sunny landscape.
"How long will Miss Elvan stay?" he asked.
"Oh, as long as she likes. We are very glad to have her."
Their looks met for an instant.
"A pity, a pity!" said Ralph, shaking his head and smiling. "Don't you think so?"
"Why, yes. I've always thought so."
Will knew that this was not strictly the truth. But in this moment he refused to see anything but the dimly suggested possibility that Franks might meet again with Rosamund Elvan, and again succumb to her charm.
"Heaven forbid!" resumed Ralph, "that one should interfere where lives are at stake! Nothing of that, nothing of that. You are as little disposed for it as I am. But simply to acquaint him with the fact—?"