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seems to me I’ve a right to ask it, because I’ve a kind of in-
terest in the answer.’
‘Ask what you will,’ Isabel replied gently, ‘and I’ll try to
satisfy you.’
‘Well then, I hope you won’t mind my saying that War-
burton has told me of something that has passed between
you.’
Isabel suppressed a start; he sat looking at her open fan.
‘Very good; I suppose it was natural he should tell you.’
‘I have his leave to let you know he has done so. He has
some hope still,’ said Ralph.
‘Still?’
‘He had it a few days ago.’
‘I don’t believe he has any now,’ said the girl.
‘I’m very sorry for him then; he’s such an honest man.’
‘Pray, did he ask you to talk to me?’
‘No, not that. But he told me because he couldn’t help it.
We’re old friends, and he was greatly disappointed. He sent
me a line asking me to come and see him, and I drove over
to Lockleigh the day before he and his sister lunched with
us. He was very heavy-hearted; he had just got a letter from
you.’
‘Did he show you the letter?’ asked Isabel with momen-
tary loftiness.
‘By no means. But he told me it was a neat refusal. I was
very sorry for him,’ Ralph repeated.
For some moments Isabel said nothing; then at last, ‘Do
you know how often he had seen me?’ she enquired. ‘Five or
six times.’

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