He had noticed the Sphinx, lying at anchor in the bay, on his way to the Cottage.
“I suppose that chap Forrester is going to favour Silverquay with another visit,” he remarked, as he and Ann strolled in the garden together. “I don’t care for him,” he added. “When we are married, Ann, I’d rather you didn’t see any more of him than you can help. From all I can hear he hasn’t too savoury a reputation.”
Ann’s heart sank. If Eliot thought that—felt like that about Brett, then there could be no hope of forgiveness if he ever found out that she had been to supper with him on the yacht. And now, appearances would be even stronger against her. It would look as though she had gone there deliberately in defiance of Eliot’s expressed wishes.
She became unwontedly quiet—so much so that Eliot’s solicitude was awakened.
“What’s the matter with you to-day?” he asked, looking down keenly into her face as he held her in his arms. “Are you depressed or worried about anything, sweetheart?”
She roused herself to a smile.
“Worried? Why, what have I to be worried about—now we’re together again?”
His face cleared.
“I suppose you’re just feeling a bit lonely without that ‘best brother’ of yours. Is that it?”
“Yes. That’s it,” she said, nodding emphatically. “I miss Robin. You—you won’t have to send him away again, Eliot.”