"She is quite young then?"
"Quite."
"Is she good-looking?" continued Miss Blake.
"I have rarely seen anyone so pretty."
"Indeed! What a strange thing that she should be hiding herself in this retired place!"
"Do you think so? It seems to me to be just the spot a young lady might select, if obliged to live apart for a time from her husband."
"Of course, there's something in that," conceded Miss Blake. "Does she visit at all in the neighbourhood?"
"I think not. I am sure not. If she did I should see her go in and out. She takes a walk occasionally, and sometimes goes to church on Sundays. But she mostly keeps in her shell, guarded by her two old domestics."
In talking, they had crossed the road, and now halted again at the little gate of Clematis Cottage. Miss Blake asked if he knew anything about the ruins she had noticed further up: and Mr. Smith (who had introduced himself to her by name in a light, gentlemanly manner) said he did not, but he had a book of the locality indoors which he would refer to, if she would do him the honour of stepping into his little drawing-room.
Rather fascinated by his courteous attentions, Miss Blake did so: and thought what a bright-looking, pretty drawing-room it was. The gentleman took off his green glasses (casually mentioning that he wore them out of doors as a protection against the sun, for his eyes were not strong) and searched for the guidebook. The book, however, proved to be chiefly a book of roads, and said very little more of the monastery and the ruins than Miss Blake had heard from Tom Pepp.