The explanation was lengthy, laboured, not altogether spontaneous. Damaris vaguely mystified by it made no comment. Henrietta raised her head, glancing round from under lowered eyelids.
"You appreciate the ever-faithful Carteret?" she asked, an edge of eagerness in her voice.
"The dear 'man with the blue eyes?' Of course I love him, we both love him almost better than anybody in the world," Damaris warmly declared.
"And he manifestly returns your affection. But, dearest child, why 'almost.' Is that reservation intentional or merely accidental?"
Then seeing the girl's colour rise.
"Perhaps it's hardly a fair question. Forgive me. I forgot how long it is since we met, forgot I'm not, after all, talking to the precious little downy owl, who had no more serious secrets than such as might concern her large family of dolls."
"I am not sure the 'almost' was quite true." Damaris put in hastily, her cheeks more than ever aflame.
"Yes it was, most delicious child—I protest it was. And I'm not sure I'm altogether sorry."
Slightly, daintily, she kissed the flaming cheek.
"But I do love Colonel Carteret," Damaris repeated, with much wide-eyed earnestness. "I trust him and depend on him as I do on nobody else."