She longed inexpressibly for the peace and
quiet of her own room, and she felt thankful when at length the moment for
departure actually arrived.
Lady Susan glanced keenly at her once or twice as they were rowed across
the bay to the now deserted quay, but she refrained from making any comment
on the girl's appearance of fatigue. It was only as they were walking up
the tarred planking of the jetty together, somewhat behind the rest of the
party, that she asked with a queer mixtures of tenderness and humour:
"May I guess, Ann?"
"There's--nothing--to guess," said Ann bluntly.
Lady Susan came to a standstill and stood looking down at her with eyes
that laughed.
"So you've turned him down?" she queried.
Ann nodded silently.
"Well"--incisively--"it will do him a whole heap of good. He's much too
inclined to think the entire world is his for the taking."
Involuntarily Ann laughed outright at the palpable truth of the statement,
and with that spontaneous laughter was borne away much of the hurt pride
and resentment which had been galling her. It was, after all, absurd to
take an irresponsible being like Brett Forrester too seriously.
"I don't altogether envy Brett's wife," pursued Lady Susan judicially.
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