Lisle had noticed the correctness of her assumptions on other occasions, but he said nothing, for he had noticed some bitterness in her voice. He walked on with her and she led him into a path through a shrubbery bordering the lawn, where she sat down on a wooden seat.
“Now,” she said teasingly, “we have given the others something to think about; but I’ve really no designs on you. It wouldn’t be much use, anyway. You’re safe.”
She looked up at him with elfish mischief in her aggressively pretty face. Dressed in some clinging fabric of pale watery green that matched the greenish light in her eyes and the reddish gleam in her hair, she was very alluring; but it was borne in upon Lisle that to take up her challenge too boldly would lower him in the girl’s regard.
“I’m human,” he laughed. “Perhaps I’d better mention it. But I think it’s more to the purpose to say that I’m altogether at your disposal.”
“Well,” she answered, “I wanted you. As you’re almost a stranger, it’s curious, isn’t it? But, you see, I haven’t a real friend in the world.”
“I wonder if that can be quite correct?”
“So far as the people here go, haven’t you eyes?”
Lisle had seen the men gather about her, but it was those he thought least of who followed her most closely, and the women stood aloof.
“There are Miss Marple and her mother, anyway; they’re friends of yours,” he pointed out.
“Just so. Flo and I are in the same class, making the same fight; but that isn’t always a reason for mutual appreciation or support. Mrs. Marple, of course, is her daughter’s partizan, though in some ways it suits us to stand together. But I didn’t bring you here to listen to my grievances, but because you happen to be the one man I can trust.”