Then, still looking down at her, he spoke.
"It's pretty evident," he said, "what's the matter with you."
"Is it?"
Her eyes were all wide. He had frightened her again.
"It is," he said. "You've been starved."
"Oh," said little Ally, "is that all?"
And Rowcliffe smiled again, a little differently.
Mary said nothing. She had found out long ago that silence was her strength. Her small face brooded. Impossible to tell what she was thinking.
"What has become of the other one, I wonder?" he said to himself.
He wanted to see her. She was the intelligent one of the three sisters, and she was honest. He had said to her quite plainly that he would want her. Why, on earth, he wondered, had she gone away and left him with this sweet and good, this quite exasperatingly sweet and good woman who had told him nothing but lies?