“There can be only one interpretation to put on your silence.”
“I know, of course, the interpretation you will put upon it. But that it would be the same one whether I speak or am silent, I am equally convinced.”
“You flatter me!” Travers exclaimed. He flung away the end of his cigar, and rose. “There’s a fire in the smoking room, I suppose?”
“Yes,—one moment, before you go,” Bridget said. She was very pale.
“I should like to go home to-morrow,” she began.
He shrugged his shoulders. “My dear, I’m perfectly willing. Why consult me about such a trifle? Indeed, if I must choose between having my mother-in-law here, or your departure, ungallant though it seems, I prefer the latter evil. Though my acquaintance with Mrs. Ruan has been very limited,—I met her twice at lunch, I think, the last time she paid us a visit,—I have already exhausted her as a type. I’m afraid I can get nothing further out of her.”
“I should like to go home to-morrow,” Bridget repeated, mechanically, “and I shall not come back.”
There was a moment’s pause. The clock ticked loud and insistently in the silence.
Travers slowly raised his eyes to his wife’s face, and looked her deliberately up and down before he laughed.
“Carey doesn’t waste his time, evidently,” he said.