"I've been to get a book for Mrs. Kincaid," she answered. "She was hoping you'd come round to-day."
"I meant to come yesterday. Well, how are you getting on? Still satisfied with Westport? Not beginning to tire of it yet?"
"I like it very much," she said, "naturally. It's a great change from my life three months ago; I shouldn't be very grateful if I weren't satisfied."
"That's all right. Your coming was a good thing; my mother was saying the other evening it was a slice of luck."
"Oh, I'm so glad! I have wanted to know whether I—did!"
"You 'do' uncommonly; I haven't seen her so content for a long while. You don't look very bright; d'ye feel well?"
"It's the heat," she said; "yes, I'm quite well, thank you; I have a headache this afternoon, that's all."
She was wondering if her path and Carew's would ever cross again. How horrible if chance brought him to the theatre here and she came face to face with him in the High Street!
"Hasn't my mother been out to-day herself? She ought to make the most of the fine weather."
"I left her in the garden; I think she likes that better than taking walks."