SWEET APPLES ON A RUSTIC SEAT
197
"Were there what?"
"Any apples—on the seat?"
"Yes, yellow sweet ones. Did you put them there?" Suspicion leaped into his eyes.
"Yes, I knew she liked that kind."
"She thought I had brought them."
"That's all right."
Silence once more. Then Edmund,
"You don't suppose it's Ramsey, do you, Derek?"
Derek turned and faced him, comb in hand.
"Ramsey! What put him in your head?"
"Oh, I don't know. . . . The way he hustled you into that marriage, now. . . . I've thought of that. . . . Just as though he wanted to make sure you were out of the way."
"I wouldn't believe that of Ramsey. He's absolutely straight. No, Grace doesn't love anyone but her father. . . . Whoa, pet. Now, you're as sleek as a chestnut."
