"Asked her!" repeats he, with an accent of profound astonishment. "Asked the woman whether she had been engaged to him, and jilted him? Impossible!"
"No! no!" cry I, with tremulous impatience, "of course not; but I asked her whether she used not to know him in India, and she said, 'Yes, we met several times,' just like that—she no more blushed and looked confused than I should if any one asked me whether I knew you!"
He is still leaning over the punt, and has begun to dabble as I did.
"You certainly have a way of putting things very strongly," he says in a rather low voice, "convincingly so!"
"She did not even know what part of the world he was in!" I cry, triumphantly.
"Did she say so?" (lifting up his face, and speaking quickly).
"Well, no—o—" I answer, reluctantly; "but I said, 'He is in the West Indies,' and she answered 'Yes,' or 'Indeed,' or 'Is he?' I forget which, but at any rate it implied that it was news to her."
A pike leaps not far from us, and splashes back again. I watch to see whether the widening faint circles will have strength to reach us, or whether the water's smile will be smoothed and straightened before it gets to us.
"Did Mrs. Huntley happen to say" (leaning lazily back, and speaking carelessly), "how she liked her house?"
"No; why?"