"But it may not be true after all," Peggy said, as they walked together towards the long windows.
He shook his head at that. "It must be true," he said; "no one else could have done it; and what you have just told me, and what Dicky said, make it conclusive to my mind."
They passed behind the curtains together, and there was the sound of a chair being moved over the tessellated floor.
THE LAST CHAPTER
Lady Attwill was upstairs in her bedroom.
It was very large, and luxuriously furnished, with Chippendale chairs and Adams ceiling, while the walls were covered with a paper of white upon which, here and there, tiny apple blossoms of pink and grass-green were indicated.
Despite its size, the room felt close, and Alice Attwill had thrown open all the windows to the summer afternoon.
The cooler air, scented with flowers, poured into the place, but she seemed to notice nothing of it.
She walked up and down the room with her feline grace—for this was natural to her, and no careful pose or cultivated mannerism. Her lovely head was bent a little forward as she walked, and the hands which were clasped behind her slim waist folded and unfolded themselves nervously.