There was a new quality in the familiar lazy drawl—something that was very strong and steady. Although he had laid no stress on the word "you," yet Nan was conscious in every nerve of her that there was an emphatic individual significance in the brief words he had just uttered. She shied away from it like a frightened colt.
"Still you mightn't come to the rescue, even if I were struggling in the quicksands," she answered.
"I should come," he said deliberately, "whether you wanted me to come or not."
Followed a brief pause, charged with a curious emotional tensity. Then
Mallory remarked lightly:
"I enjoyed the Charity Concert at Exeter."
"Were you there?" exclaimed Nan in surprise.
"Certainly I was there. When I was as near as Abbencombe, you don't suppose I was going to miss the chance of hearing you play, do you?"
"I never thought of your being there," she answered.
"And now that I know you've French blood in your veins, I can understand what always puzzled me in your playing."
"What was that?"