Stewart leaned forward, looking up again at her.
"I haven't the right," he said, "and you needn't answer me, but—is it Robert, Cary?"
A long shaft of breaking sunlight came through the window and touched her shoulders and her hair. The quiet of the room was absolute. She still pressed the hand he had held with the other.
"It isn't Robert," she said, and her voice was lower than its wont, and she did not meet Stewart's eyes, "I—" and then she ran swiftly from the room.
She would not meet his eyes all during lunch, and she insisted on devoting herself to Cameron, much to Maggie's inward amusement.
"There's something in the air," Maggie confided to Cameron after lunch; "I just feel it pricking—like pins. It's something to do with John and Cary. Now what do you suppose it is?"
She laughed, meeting Cameron's eyes.
"What do you suppose it is!" he repeated banteringly. "I'm sure I don't know!"
"Johnny's taking her to the Point this afternoon!"
Cameron sighed heavily.