"My dear boy, how absurd of you!" returned the sharp-eyed old lady with a twinkle of merriment. "In the first place, all the motor-boats in the world couldn't keep a young man like you chained up indefinitely in a sleepy little Cape Cod village. Besides, Cynthia told me."
"Cynthia? She doesn't know anything about it."
"That is precisely how I knew," piped Madam Lee triumphantly.
"What did she tell you?"
"She did not tell me anything," was the reply. "She simply came back from Wilton in a wretched humor and when I inquired of her whether she had her buckle back again, she answered with such spirit that there was no mistaking its cause. Of course she had the wit to know you were not wearing a belt of that pattern; nor your aunt nor Mr. Spence, either."
"The belt and buckle belong to a girl—"
"A girl! You surprise me," she murmured derisively.
Robert Morton waited a moment, then, without heeding her mischievous comment, added gravely:
"A friend of Mr. Spence's."
"I see."