Muriel could not deny this. She had retained her faith in Prescott, but his silence about the motive for an absence that must tell against him troubled her. It was strange that he had given her no hint, and she felt hurt.
“He may have gone because he could not bear to be distrusted,” she said. “You are both sorry for Jernyngham, but don’t you think the man he unjustly suspects deserves some pity?”
“Well,” said Colston, “I’ve tried to keep an open mind. Prejudice, of course, should not be pandered to; but one is as likely to be led astray by too strong a partiality for the suspected person.” He paused before he added: “However, I envy you your confidence; I liked the man.”
“The worst of it is that the matter may go dragging on until it wears Gertrude and her father out,” Mrs. Colston remarked. “It would be a relief in some ways to learn the truth, however bad it is.”
“Mr. Prescott has no reason to dread the truth’s coming out,” said Muriel staunchly.
Then a maid came in to announce that their team was ready, and, putting on her furs, Muriel went down in advance of the others to see that her purchases had been placed together. After she had gone, Mrs. Colston looked at her husband.
“I think it would be advisable to mention Prescott as seldom as possible.”
“So do I,” Colston agreed. “I wonder whether you have noticed anything unusual in the relations between Muriel and Gertrude of late? They used to be good friends in England.”
“I have remarked some signs of strain. But it is not a matter you could be expected to take an interest in.”
“Of course,” Colston rejoined deprecatingly, and went down with his wife.