She flushed. "I don't quite know. Partly because I didn't want to frighten Celia."
"Is that the only reason?" She was silent.
"I was in the Priory garden last night," he said. "I can't tell you why, but I hope you'll believe that whatever I was doing there - I'd - I'd chuck it up sooner than harm you in any way, or - or even give you a fright." He paused, but she still said nothing. "I don't know why you should trust me, but you seem to have done so, and I'm jolly grateful. Can you go on trusting me enough to keep this to yourself?"
She raised troubled eyes. "I ought not to. I ought to tell my brother. You see, I - I don't really know anything about you, and - you must admit - it's rather odd of you to be in our grounds at that hour. I suppose you can't tell me anything more?"
"No," he said. "I can't. I wish I could."
She got up. "I shan't say anything about having seen you. But I warn you - you may be found out, another time. You want to get us out of the Priory - and we aren't going. So - so it's no use trying to frighten us away. I - I expect you know what I mean."
He did not answer, but continued to watch her rather closely. She held out her hand. "I must go, or I shall be too late for tea. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," Strange said, taking her hand for a moment in his strong clasp. "And thank you."
The rest of the family noticed that Margaret was rather silent at tea-time, and Mrs. Bosanquet asked her if she were tired. She roused herself at that, disclaimed, and, banishing Strange from her thoughts for a while, gave her attention to Celia, who was recounting the proceedings of Constable Henry Flinders.
"And as far as I can see," Celia said, "there those scratches will remain."