“No, I should not like to marry an officer,” she replied.
Her words—perhaps, still more, her unconscious manner—seemed to sting Gerard. He flushed.
“Juffrouw Rovers is never particularly brave,” he said. “She is too soft-hearted. The last time I saw her, she was showing the white feather, as now.”
The words were a challenge. And, unconsciously, his manner betrayed as much; it was too significant.
Helena looked from one to the other: “What is it?” she asked. “What does it mean, Juffrouw Rovers? Gerard, what is the joke?”
“Joke? None. Ask Juffrouw Rovers.”
“So I have, but she doesn’t tell me.”
“Then you may be sure it is a little secret between Ursula and me, which I shall keep. I am not responsible for what she may do.”
She had the good taste not to press the subject, but she reverted to it as soon as she found herself alone with her lover.
“Gerard, what is this silly secret between you and Miss Rovers?”