Claire stood still, staring with widened eyes.
“Hurry home—hurry home before—” She stopped short, furious with herself for having taken any notice of the slip, and Erskine gave a short embarrassed laugh, and cried hastily—
“Oh, I knew; of course I knew! The rain was only an excuse. The real reason was that as soon as I knew you were staying here, I hadn’t patience to stay on. I stood it for exactly three hours, thinking of you in this garden, imagining walking about as we are walking now, and then—I bolted for the afternoon train!”
Claire felt her cheeks flame, and affected dignity to hide her deep, uncontrollable joy.
“If I had been your hostess—”
“But you weren’t, you see... You weren’t! For goodness’ sake don’t put yourself in her place next. Be Claire Gifford for once, and say you are glad to see me!” His eyes met hers and twinkled with humour as he added solemnly. “There’s not a single solitary convention that could possibly be broken by being civil to a man in his own home! Even your ultra sensitive conscience—”
“Never mind my sensitive conscience. What I want to know is, how did you know? Who told you that I was here?”
It was significant that the possibility that Mrs Fanshawe had written of her guest never occurred to Claire’s mind; that Erskine like herself discounted such a possibility. He replied with a matter-of-fact simplicity which left Claire marvelling at the obtuseness of mankind—
“Janet, of course. Janet Willoughby. We were staying in the same house. We were talking of you yesterday morning, and comparing notes generally. She said you were—oh! quite a number of agreeable things—and I agreed with her, with just one exception. She considered that you were responsive. I said I had never found any one less so. She said you were always so ready to meet her halfway. I complained that you refused to meet me at all. I ... er ... told her how I felt about it, and she said my chance was waiting if I choose to take it—that you were staying here keeping the mater company. So—”
Claire said nothing. She was thinking deeply. For how many days had Janet been staying in the same house with Erskine? Perhaps a week, certainly several days, yet it had been only yesterday morning that she had given the news. Yesterday morning; and in three hours he had flown! How was Janet faring now, while Claire was walking in fairyland?