lously. There was something in his tone that brought the colour to her cheeks.
She nodded. "I did really. I should have liked to talk to you. I'm alone here, you see. I suppose you wonder why?" She looked up at him suddenly.
He shook his head.
"It's really through you."
"Through me?"
"Yes, what you said at Frint," she replied brightly. "Don't you remember saying that one should have courage in one's unconventions? Well, things had reached such a point I felt that if I spent another day in London I should have to scream, so I got a doctor I know to prescribe Folkestone for a week. I telegraphed to an old governess to meet me here, and when I arrived there was a telegram from her saying she had rheumatism, and—and I decided to stay on. Auntie would be ill if she knew, especially as I refused to bring my maid," she added with a laugh.
Recalling his one experience of Mrs. Crisp's conversation, Beresford found himself able to sympathise with any one whose fate it was to live in perpetual nearness to her.
"In all probability my reputation is in tatters by now; that is, among the other guests," she said with a smile.
"And you imply that the responsibility is mine?"
She nodded.
"But aren't heiresses a law unto themselves?"
