"I brought her up to chaperon you," she explained. "Are you going to be bored, dining alone with me? I warned you what it would be like." She pointed doubtfully towards a table set for two. "We put the dirty plates on the floor, and my maid will take them away when she brings coffee. I've only her and one kitchen-maid to keep me alive. Eric, I've been looking forward to this most enormously. That was a sweet letter you wrote me from Lashmar—I love the name! Lashmar Mill-House—You were very fond of Jack, I could see. Shall we begin?"
Eric looked at the photograph on the mantel-piece before sitting down.
"He was the greatest friend I ever had," he answered wistfully. "An unusual character. If you liked him, he could make you do anything he pleased.… Did you see much of him? His sister was surprised to find that you knew him."
Barbara finished her soup without answering. Then, as Eric took away her empty plate, she looked up at him with a slight frown of perplexity.
"Did he never mention me to you?" she asked. "Somehow—I thought you understood, Eric. Didn't any one else tell you? There are so many stories about me——"
"I honestly don't know what you're referring to," said Eric, laying down his knife and fork in perplexity.
She looked at him closely with eyebrows raised.
"When we discussed the photograph, and I asked you to find out anything you could … Didn't you see that Jack meant a great deal to me?"
The colour had fled from her cheeks, and she was sitting with head bent forward, deeply preoccupied with the food on her plate. Gazing blankly at her, Eric tried to imagine what kind of intimacy she could have formed with the elusive celibate who never spoke to women or discussed them.…
Something was expected of him.…