“Yes. Telling you had made me feel that quite plainly.”
“Anyhow, she’ll be gone back to Constantinople in April, and then your little difficulty will come to an end automatically.”
Dion looked rather hard at Bruce Evelin. When he spoke to Rosamund of Mrs. Clarke, Rosamund always seemed to try for a gentle evasion. Now Bruce Evelin was surely evading the question, and again Mrs. Clarke was the subject of conversation. Bruce Evelin was beginning to age rather definitely. He had begun to look older since Beattie was married. But his dark eyes were still very bright and keen, and one could not be with him for even a few minutes without realizing that his intellect was sharply alert.
“Isn’t it strange that she should go back to live in Constantinople?” Dion said.
“Yes. Not many women in her position would do it.”
“And yet there’s reason in her contention that an innocent woman who allows herself to be driven away from the place she lived in is a bit of a coward.”
“Beadon Clarke’s transferred to Madrid, so Mrs. Clarke’s reason—it was a diplomatic one—for living in Constantinople falls to the ground.”
“Yes, that’s true. But of course her husband and she have parted.
“Naturally. So she has the world to choose from.”
“For a home, you mean? Yes. It’s an odd choice, Constantinople. But she’s not an ordinary woman.”