inquired a few minutes ago whether Dorothy Emsworth was going to act in New York. Why did you ask? You said it was from mere curiosity; is that true? You can say yes again, if you wish.'
' I don't wish,' said he. ' It wasn't true then, and I don't suppose it will be by now. You mean that Bertie saw a good deal of her at one time, but how much neither you nor I know.'
Sybil turned, and began walking home again rather quickly.
' How disgusting!' she said.
' Your fault,' he said—' entirely your fault.'
' But won't it be rather awkward for him?' she asked, walking rather more slowly.
' I asked him that the other night,' said Charlie; ' he said he didn't know.'
Again for a time they walked in silence. But the alertness of Mrs. Massington's face went bail for the fact that she was not silent because she had nothing to say. Then it is to be supposed that she followed out the train of her thought to her own satisfaction.
' How lovely the shadows are!' she remarked; ' shadows are so much more attractive than lights.'
' Searchlights?' asked he.
' No; shadows and searchlights belong to the same plane. I hope it is tea-time; I am so hungry.'
This was irrelevant enough; irrelevance, therefore, was no longer a social crime.
' And I should like to see my double,' said Charlie.
The only drawback to the charming situation of the house was that a curve of a branch railway-line to Winchester passed not far from the garden. Trains were infrequent on it on weekdays, even more infrequent on Sundays. But at this moment the thump of an approaching train was heard, climbing up the incline of the line.
