Mr. Mariner digested this.
"You speculated?" he gasped.
"Yes."
"You shouldn't have been allowed to do it," said Mr. Mariner warmly. "Major Selby, your uncle, ought to have known better than to allow you."
"Yes, oughtn't he?" said Jill demurely.
There was another silence, lasting for about a quarter of a mile.
"Well, it's a bad business," said Mr. Mariner.
"Yes," said Jill. "I've felt that myself."
The result of this conversation was to effect a change in the atmosphere of Sandringham. The alteration in the demeanour of people of parsimonious habit, when they discover that the guest they are entertaining is a pauper and not, as they had supposed, an heiress, is subtle but well marked. In most cases, more well marked than subtle. Nothing was actually said, but there are thoughts that are almost as audible as words. A certain suspense seemed to creep into the air, as happens when a situation has been reached which is too poignant to last. Greek Tragedy affects the reader with the same sense of overhanging doom. Things, we feel, cannot go on as they are.