"For Alan Conrad? Yes," she said.
"I knew it!" he repeated. "He's been the trouble between you and me all the time!"
She made no denial of that; she had begun to know during the last two days that it was so.
"So you came to find him?" Henry went on.
"Yes, Henry. Have you any news?"
"News?"
"News of the boats?"
"News!" he iterated. "News to-night! No one'll have more'n one news to-night!"
From his slow, heavy utterance, a timbre of terrible satisfaction betrayed itself; his eyes widened a little as he saw it strike Constance, then his lids narrowed again. He had not meant to say it that way; yet, for an instant, satisfaction to him had become inseparable from the saying, before that was followed by fright—the fright of examination of just what he had said or of what she had made of it.
"He'll be found!" she defied him.