“He’s not too sick to have a devil in him. Leave him alone!”
She shook her head. She was gaining in firmness. “It won’t hurt me to hear what he has to say. It may throw some light on the situation.”
“I doubt it,” said Stonor. “His object is to raise as much dust as possible. But go ahead. If he’s insulting, leave him instantly. And don’t let him know what I suspect him of.”
She went, and Stonor walked up and down in the grass in a fever until she returned. She was with Imbrie some little time. Stonor could not guess of what they talked. Clare’s white composed face, and Imbrie’s invariable grin, told him nothing.
The instant she came towards him he burst out: “He didn’t annoy you?”
She shook her head. “No, he seemed quite anxious to please. He apologized for what he said before.”
Stonor said, blushing and scowling: “Perhaps you do not care to tell me what you——”
“Certainly!” she said, with a quick look. “Don’t be silly, Martin. It was just what you might expect. Nothing important. He asked me dozens of questions as to what we did down the river.”
“You did not tell him?”
“How could I? Apparently he is greatly puzzled by my condition. He seems not fully to believe, or at least he pretends not to believe, that I cannot remember. He tried to work on my feelings to get you to liberate him. And of course he was most anxious to know what he was wanted for. I told him I could not interfere in your affairs, that’s all.”