His sensitive, bitter mouth twisted suddenly.
“If you don't mind,” he said quickly, “we won't talk about Sara. And I won't keep you any longer from your guests. It was—just like you—to take it as you have done, Audrey. And if, later on, you find yourself obliged to revise your opinion of me—I shall understand. And I shall not resent it.”
“I'm not very likely to do what you suggest.”
He looked at her with a curious expression on his face.
“I'm afraid it is only too probable,” he rejoined simply.
He wrung her hand, and, turning, walked swiftly away through the wood, while Audrey retraced her footsteps in the direction of the dell.
She was feeling extremely annoyed at what she considered to be Mrs. Durward's hasty and inconsiderate action. It was unpardonable of any one thus to spoil the harmony of the day, she reflected indignantly, and then she looked up and met Elisabeth's misty, hyacinth eyes, full of a gentle, appealing regret.
“Mrs. Maynard, I must beg you to try and pardon me,” she said, approaching with a charming gesture of apology. “I have no excuse to offer except that Mr. Trent is a man I—I cannot possibly meet.” She paused and seemed to swallow with some difficulty, and of a sudden Audrey was conscious of a thrill of totally unexpected compassion. There was so evidently genuine pain and emotion behind the hesitating apology.
“I am sorry you should have been distressed,” she replied kindly. “It has been a most unfortunate affair all round.”
Elisabeth bestowed a grateful little smile upon her.