She waved the question aside almost contemptuously.
“I never for a moment believed anything else,” she said. “But you haven’t told me at all what I really wanted to know. What was Seymour Covell doing down here on this road so late? Tell me that?”
Bob shook his head.
“That I can’t tell you,” he replied.
“But you know, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“Nonsense! I am sure you do. Or, at least, you are convinced in your own mind. Will you tell me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I—well, because it is not any of my business. You must wait and ask him. Perhaps, when he is well enough, he will tell you.”