“Of course. If it is anything against her reputation—her honour—then it is certainly best left unsaid,” he replied quickly. “Only—well, I—I thought, perhaps, it might give us a clue to the motive of their unaccountable flight.”
“Perhaps it might,” she admitted; “and yet I cannot tell you.”
“Does Charlie know? Would he tell me, do you think?”
“I don’t think Charlie knows. At any rate, she would not tell him. If he does know, it must be through some other source.”
“And you anticipate that what Maud told you had some connection with their sudden disappearance?” he asked, looking steadfastly into the face of the woman he dearly loved.
“I’ve already told you so.”
“But when you parted from her that night, did you believe that you would not meet her again?”
She was silent, looking straight before her at the crowd of idlers circulating around the illuminated bandstand and enjoying the music and the cool air after the stifling London day.
At last she spoke, saying in a low, rather strained voice:
“I can hardly answer that question. Had I suspected anything unusual I think I should have mentioned my apprehension to you.”