He was silent a moment. Then he asked abruptly:
“Will you be there—on the yacht, I mean?”
She bent her head, conscious of the sudden flush that came and went quickly in her face.
“Yes. Robin and I are going.”
“In that case”—there was an infinitesimal pause and, although she would not look up, she was sensitively aware of the intentness of his gaze—“in that case, I shall change my mind and go, too.”
“You’ll meet plenty of friends there,” replied Ann. “Lady Susan, of course, and the Tempests, and Mrs. Hilyard.”
“Acquaintances only,” he returned shortly.
“Well, at least you’ll admit that Mrs. Hilyard is an ‘auld acquaintance’,” she said, laughing. “And she’s so pretty! I do love people who are nice to look at, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Just the bare monosyllable, rather grudgingly uttered—nothing more.
“Don’t you think she’s very beautiful?” asked Ann in some astonishment at the lack of enthusiasm in his tones.