"I shall not be sorry," he said shortly.
Aynesworth fidgeted about. He had something to say, and he found it
difficult. Wingrave gave him no encouragement. He was leaning back in
his steamer chair, with his eyes fixed upon the sky line.
Notwithstanding the incessant companionship of the last six days,
Aynesworth felt that he had not progressed a single step towards
establishing any more intimate relations between his employer and
himself.
"Mrs. Travers is not on deck this afternoon," he remarked a trifle
awkwardly.
"Indeed!" Wingrave answered. "I hadn't noticed."
Aynesworth sat down. There was nothing to be gained by fencing.
"I wanted to talk about her, sir, if I might," he said.
Wingrave withdrew his eyes from the sea, and looked at his companion
in cold surprise.
"To me?" he asked.
"Yes! I thought, the first few days, that Mrs. Travers was simply a
vain little woman of the world, perfectly capable of taking care of
herself, and heartless enough to flirt all day long, if she chose,
without any risk, so far as she was concerned. I believe I made a
mistake!"
"This is most interesting," Wingrave said calmly, "but why talk to me
about the lady? I fancy that I know as much about her as you do."
"Very likely; but you may not have realized the same things. Mrs.
Travers is a married woman, with a husband in Boston, and two little
children, of whom, I believe, she is really very fond.
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