“Have you had an accident?” she asked, with a note of caressing tenderness in her voice.
“Nothing to speak of. A slight knock on the head while swimming in the Solent—that is all.”
The door had scarce closed on him when Rosamund turned to her friend. She spoke slowly, but Lady Hilbury saw that the knuckles of a white hand holding the back of a chair reddened under the force of the grip.
“I dared not asked him,” came the steady words, “but—perhaps you can tell me—is he unmarried?”
“Yes.”
“And free?”
The younger woman let go the chair. Her hands flew to her face to hide the tears that started forth unchecked.
“Ah, dear Heaven,” she murmured, “if only I could be sure!”
That evening, while the incense of tobacco rose from the deck of the Nancy, Warden learned from Peter the history of the hours immediately succeeding his departure from Cowes.