"I always see you, Jane."
He spoke quite lightly, but Jane Oglander felt touched—horribly touched. The tears came into her eyes for the first time that day. Dick, and Dick's friendship, was all that remained to her—now.
"Did it all go off quite right? Had you a good time?" she made a valiant effort to control herself.
"A very good time! The duchess is most anxious General Lingard should go on straight there after leaving here."
She felt the underlying, criticising dislike of Lingard in the tone in which Wantele uttered the words, and she felt troubled.
Suddenly she stumbled, and her companion, putting out his thin hand, grasped her arm.
"Jane," he said quickly, "wait a moment! It's not cold. I want to say something to you, and I'd rather say it out here, where no one can interrupt us, than indoors."
He took his hand from her arm. "I trust to your—your kindness not to take offence."
"I shan't be offended, but—but must you speak to me, Dick? I've been so grateful to you for not speaking."
"Yes, I must speak. It's been cowardly of me not to do it before. It's about Lingard, Jane."