"This will make the eleventh day."
"You seem to have done your spying to some purpose to be able to tell me all this."
The young man merely screwed up his lips.
"Describe the young gentleman's appearance as nearly as you can."
"He's not so tall as I am by half a foot, but rather stiffly built; with sandy hair and a light mustache. In one eye he carries a glass."
"Guy Ormsby!" exclaimed Mrs. Jenwyn under her breath. "I felt nearly sure it must be he; and yet not eighteen months ago I heard him tell his sister that his regiment was ordered abroad." Aloud she said, "But how is it, I should like to know, that Fanny Davis has never said a word to me about these meetings at Carthew Bay?"
"Because, ma'am, she has no doubt been bribed not to tell. She just perches herself on a bit of rock out of the way of the others, and reads novelettes all the time they are together. Oh, she's a deep un, is Fan, and not to be trusted further than one can see her!" He spoke with a touch of bitterness not observable before.
Like most women, Mrs. Jenwyn was certainly not without her occasional intuitions.
Looking the young fellow straight in the eyes, she said: "You either are or have been in love with Fanny Davis, and she has jilted you."
He looked first amazed and then sulky, while his face turned the color of a peony. "Whether that's so or not," he said, after a brief pause, "I don't see that it has anything to do with what I came here to tell you."