She smiled mysteriously, for she had watched my face and seen my expression of surprise.
“And the recollection of her is not a very pleasant one, eh?”
“How did you know that?” I asked quickly.
She shrugged her shoulders with that foreign air which showed her to be a born cosmopolitan and laughed, but made no reply. That she knew more concerning me than she admitted was quite plain.
“And what has the woman Hardwick to do with the affair?” I asked in surprise.
“She is not your friend,” she answered, in a low, serious voice. “You have seen her lately, I presume.”
“I met her last while at supper at the Savoy about a fortnight ago,” I said. “She then pressed me to go and dine with her.”
“Of course. Hitherto you had not seen her for several months.”
“No. She has been abroad, I understand.”
“Yes. In Italy.”