“Cacciola wanted Winnie to go with them,” he continued slowly, staring fixedly at the fire; “but I gather she’s refused. It would have been a big chance for her; and besides, I’ll have to go over myself in the early spring. We could all have gone together, and she’d have met my mother and sisters, and—— But now of course——”
He turned to Grace with startling suddenness. “Grace, do you know that Winnie’s giving me the frozen mitten?”
“Giving you the—what?” she echoed in sheer surprise.
“That she’s turned me down. I haven’t even seen her since the day after she came back from Bristol.”
“Nor have I, or only for a few minutes between whiles. She’s been away most of the time, with all these provincial engagements—only got back late last night; she rang me up.”
“Did she say anything about me?”
“No, only that she hadn’t seen you. I’m going to help down at Bermondsey. Aren’t you coming too?”
“No—I don’t know. She hasn’t asked me. Fact is, she hasn’t answered my letters—she’s simply ignored me. I went around yesterday, and her maid said she wasn’t at home, though I’m plumb certain she was all the time. Then I rang up, and again the maid answered and said Winnie had gone to bed, and again I didn’t believe her. Why is she treating me like this? I can’t understand it. It’s worrying me no end. I’d have tried to find out from George, but he’s in Paris, as you know.”
Grace nodded.
“When did you see her last?”