“I think everything is all right.”
“Why do you say you ‘think’? Aren’t you sure? You have come from the works?”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve just come from Surbiton. I wanted to speak with Mr. Sartwell, but I find he’s not at home.”
“Oh,” said the girl, evidently much relieved. Then she flashed a bewilderingly piercing glance at him, that vaguely recalled her father to his mind. “From Surbiton? You came from Surbiton just now?”
“Yes,” he faltered.
“You have been to see Mr. Hope?”
Marsten was undeniably confused, and the girl saw it. A flush of anger overspread her face.
“If your visit was a secret one, of course I don’t expect you to answer my question.”
“It was not intended to be a secret visit, but—but Mr. Hope asked me not to mention it.”
“Not to mention it to my father?”