“I—I don’t believe it!” she blurted forth at last.
“Ah, my dear. You mean you don’t want to believe it—because you are in love with him!” said her mother as the car rushed homeward. “Now put all this silly girlish nonsense aside. The fellow is under a cloud, and no good. I tell you frankly I will never have him as my son-in-law. How he has escaped the police is a marvel; but if the man Bowden knows where he is, Scotland Yard will, no doubt, soon hear.”
The girl remained silent. Could it be possible that, after all, Hugh had asked Louise Lambert to be his wife? She had known of her, and had met her with Hugh, but he had always assured her that they were merely friends. Yet it appeared that he was now living in concealment under the same roof as she!
Lady Ranscomb, clever woman of the world as she was, watched her daughter’s face in the fleeting lights as they sped homeward, and saw what a crushing blow the announcement had dealt her.
“I don’t believe it,” the girl cried.
She had received word in secret—presumably from the White Cavalier—to meet Hugh at the Bush Hotel at Farnham on the following afternoon, but this secret news held her in doubt and despair.
Lady Ranscomb dropped the subject, and began to speak of other things—of a visit to the flying-ground at Hendon on the following day, and of an invitation they had received to spend the following week with a friend at Cowes.
On arrival home Dorise went at once to her room, where her maid awaited her.
After the distracted girl had thrown off her cloak, her maid unhooked her dress, whereupon Dorise dismissed her to bed.
“I want to read, so go to bed,” she said in a petulant voice which rather surprised the neat muslin-aproned maid.