Hugh sat gripping the arms of his chair. What had he done, or rather what had Marjorie done? What desperate muddle had that little maid led him into? He had counted on the name being a pure invention, and now—
“Where is she?” demanded Lady Linden.
“I don’t know—we—we parted!”
“Why?”
“We didn’t get on, you see. She’d got a temper, and so—”
“Of course she had a temper. She is a spirited gel, full of life and fire and intelligence. I wouldn’t give twopence for a woman without a temper—certainly she had a temper! Bah, don’t talk to me, sir—you sit there and tell me you were content to let her go, let a beautiful creature like that go merely because she had a temper?”
“She—she went. I didn’t let her go; she just went!”
“Yes,” Lady Linden said thoughtfully, “I suppose she did. It is just what Joan would do! She saw that she was not appreciated; you wrangled, or some folly, and she simply went. She would—so would I have gone! And now, where is she?”
“I tell you I don’t know!”
“You’ve never sought her?”