“Evidemment. How much has Spencer Martin told you?”
“Old Martin? Nothing at all, ever—except the figure of my allowance.”
“Not why we first went to Hawaii?”
“Good Lord, no! I might have been a foundling.”
“You didn’t ask?” She had taken off her gray glove; and pushed her veil up farther on her forehead, with beautiful white fingers.
“No,” answered Peter curtly. “A fellow wouldn’t ask. You can see that.”
She seemed to muse. “He would have told you that, I think, if you had. There was no reason why you shouldn’t know.”
“I naturally supposed, if there was no reason why I shouldn’t know, you’d have seen to it that I was told.”
“So you thought there was something disgraceful—something that drove us out of America?”
“It has occurred to me. But I never let myself worry about it. And old Martin himself was a kind of proof that there wasn’t.”