“Very well then—you can watch me eat mine,” I said, with the callousness of one who had heard dozens of people declare the same thing, and then watched them tuck into a square meal. Delphine proved another protester to add to the list. She ate her share of the meal with no sign of choking, and brightened into acutest interest at hearing of my escort from town. The fork stopped half-way to her mouth; her eyes widened to saucer size. In the sheer surprise of the moment she forgot her grief and anxieties.
“But—but—how could he be there? He was here last night. Quite late. Ten o’clock. Walked down after dinner to hear how Jacky was!”
I made a vague sweeping gesture, which was designed to express a lack of all responsibility concerning the Squire’s eccentricities, but Delphine’s suspicions were aroused, and she was not to be easily put off.
“He must have gone up by the workman’s train. And yours left at eleven. How very peculiar! And he said nothing last night. ... Did I tell him you were coming?” She wrinkled her brows in the effort to remember. “Yes, I did. He said something about taking me for a drive to freshen me up, and I said you would be here before lunch. Evelyn, he couldn’t possibly have gone to meet you!”
Evidently she suspected nothing. I tried to look composed and natural, and said lightly:—
“It seems preposterous, doesn’t it. He certainly did not say so.”
She stared at me curiously.
“What did you talk about? About us? Did he say anything about me?”
“Of course. What do you suppose? We had quite an argument, because he seemed to think it a pity that you should injure yourself by fretting, and I said I didn’t see how you could do anything else.”
She smiled, and tilted her head, her complacency restored.