We were silent. We had forgotten all about Miss Fraenkel's suffrage. She scanned our faces with an eager look in her hazel eyes. I made an effort.
"We thought," I said, "we thought that perhaps you would be able to explain better than we could how——"
"Why, what have you been talking about, then?" she asked.
"We haven't been talking," I replied, looking at the little brass pilgrim on the door. "We've been listening."
And then we went in to lunch.
CHAPTER IX
We Await Developments
If it were necessary to epitomize our attitude towards Mr. Carville during that lunch, it might perhaps be discovered in the word "doubt." Without accusing him of intentional deception, he had certainly led us to believe that he would explain to us the many points of interest which his previous history had raised. We had felt quite sure that in the course of the morning we should learn of his meeting with his wife and the reasons which led them to make their home in the United States. We expected to have the mystery of the prodigal brother co-ordinated with the painter-cousin's story. We—but of what avail was it to grumble? He had set out to tell his tale in his own way and it was only right that we should permit him to do so.