She is a
foolish, good-natured little woman, who thinks herself clever because
her husband has permitted her to travel a good deal, and has evidently
been rather fascinated by the latitudinarianism of continental
society. She is a little afraid of being terribly bored when she gets
back to Boston, and she is very sentimental."
"I had no idea," Wingrave remarked, "that you had been submitting the
lady and her affairs to the ordeal of your marvelous gift of analysis.
I rather fancied that you took no interest in her at all."
"I did not," Aynesworth answered, "until last night."
"And last night?" he repeated questioningly.
"I found her on deck--crying. She had been tearing up some
photographs, and she talked a little wildly. I talked to her then for
a little time."
"Can't you be more explicit?" Wingrave asked.
Aynesworth looked him in the face.
"She gave me the impression," he said, "that she did not intend to
return to her husband."
Wingrave nodded.
"And what have you to say to me about this?" he asked.
"I have no right to say anything, of course," Aynesworth answered.
"You might very properly tell me that it is no concern of mine. Mrs.
Travers has already compromised herself, to some extent, with the
people on board who know her and her family. She never leaves your
side for a moment if she can help it, and for the last two or three
days she has almost followed you about.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127