"There was a paragraph in my halfpenny rag."
"Confound!" said Denis, black as a thunder-cloud.
Lettice smiled, recovering her equanimity as he lost his. "Well, you shouldn't go and make interesting things like aeroplanes and become a public character," she murmured pianissimo.
"Why didn't you tell me that you knew?"
She looked at him, allowing her speakingly derisive eyes to retaliate that question.
"I couldn't tell you about it, it wasn't my affair," said Denis hotly and confusedly. "Gardiner doesn't want the story all over the place. How could I help it, Lettice? But when I was talkin' about Easedale, I think you might have let me know you knew!"
"My dear child, I couldn't begin on it if you didn't, could I?" said Lettice patiently. "I was simply longing to ask questions. It was nice, proper, lady-like feeling made me hold my tongue, what you always say you like. And now you're cross with me! Well, well."
Denis was cross; he stood crumpling the paper in his hands, visibly fuming. Lettice took it away from him and smoothed it out.
"I shan't talk about it to Mr. Gardiner when I come to Rochehaut, if that's what you're afraid of."
"Are you really comin' to Rochehaut?"