“That was quite true,” he said seriously. “And, after all, there is a limit to the impudent questions one is obliged to answer truly. I saw her, without her seeing me, a few days ago—I suppose the day that she and Count Polda came down into Monte Carlo to meet their son—and I thought she had such an evil face, a face, too, full of such tremendous determination! I am certain she wants you to marry her son. Must you stay on at La Solitude?”
“I fear I must——” Lily hesitated. “But—but—” she did not know what to call this man who now meant all the world to her, so she called him by that little English word which may mean so much or so very little. “I promise you, dear,” she said, “that I won’t allow Beppo Polda to flirt with me. I am ashamed of the way I went on to-night; I oughtn’t to have done it! But somehow something seemed to draw me on, in spite of myself.”
He took her hand and held it tightly in his, and, like two happy children, they walked on—Lily in a maze of surprise and of mingled feelings, in which perhaps comfort was the one which predominated. It was such a comfortable thing to feel that she had a friend as well as a lover, in the strong, dependable man now walking by her side. She had felt terribly lonely sometimes—now she would never feel lonely any more.
“Look here!” he said suddenly. “I can absolutely depend on you to tell me everything? I gather you had a pretty bad time with that woman after you found that poor chap’s body?”
“Yes,” said Lily in a low tone. “I had a very, very bad time. She terrified me. I had never seen anyone so angry.”
“If anything of the kind happens again will you manage to get a message sent to me?”
“Nothing of the kind is in the least likely to happen again, and don’t feel worried about the other thing; I think I can manage Beppo.”
He winced a little at the confidence with which she said those simple words.
They were now standing on the little clearing just below the gate of La Solitude.
“Please don’t come up to the house,” she said nervously. “Let’s say good-bye here.”