"It must be," said Rachel.
"How long have you been here?" Wentworth went on, sitting down.
"How long is it?" said Rachel, with a slightly puzzled look, looking at Rendel. "Only a few days, isn't it?"
"Yes, not quite a week. My wife has not been well. We were recommended here that she might do the cure."
"I see," Wentworth said, somewhat relieved at finding himself on the way to an explanation. "Well, this is a splendid place, I believe, for the people that it cures," he added sapiently.
"No doubt," Rendel said.
There was another pause.
"Then that is why we have not seen you at the Casino," Wentworth said. "One can't avoid running up against people one knows at every turn here."
"Is that so?" said Rendel, a note of anxiety in his voice. "We have not run up against any one yet."
"Oh! dear me, yes," said Wentworth, unconscious that each of the names he might enumerate would represent to Rendel a possible inexorable judge. "Half London is here: Lady Chaloner, Pateley—all sorts of people."