It came at once.
“Where was that?”
“A place called Waterchurch Court. Have you ever heard of it? It belongs to Mr. Fenton, who is very rich.”
Rhys repressed an exclamation. “I know about him. He has a son, hasn’t he?”
“Yes,” replied Isoline, looking conscious.
“An’ I’ll be bound he paid you a sight of attention,” cried Walters, relapsing, as he sometimes did when excited, into the speech of his forefathers.
“Let us go and sit down,” said Isoline, “I am getting tired.” She moved towards the great stone on which they usually sat.
“You haven’t answered me,” he exclaimed, tormented by the thought of Harry.
Isoline liked power. “Why should I?” she asked lightly.
“I’ll tell you why,” he cried, his breath coming short through his hot lips; “because I love you, Isoline—I love you! I love you! I think of nothing but you, day and night!”