"But surely Mr. Ember must have told you?"
"Ember seemed to be labouring under the misapprehension that the Fiske place was without a tenant."
"Oh!"
"And I'm sure he was sincere. Otherwise it's certain wild horses couldn't have dragged him back to New York."
"Oh!" Her tone was thoughtful. "So he has gone back to town?"
"Business called him. At least such was the plausible excuse he advanced for depriving himself of my exclusive society."
"I see," she nodded—"I see...."
"But aren't you going to tell me? Or ought I to prove my human intelligence by assuming on logical grounds that you're Miss Fiske?"
"If you please," she murmured absently, her intent gaze seeking the distances of the sea.
"Then that's settled," he pursued in accents of satisfaction. "You are Miss Fiske—Christian name at present unknown to deponent. I am one Whitaker, as already deposed—baptized Hugh. And we are neighbours. Do you know, I think this a very decent sort of a world after all?"