"No, I haven't told Cecil or any one," she remarked, when she
returned. "I promised you I shouldn't. Here is your money--all
shillings, except two half-crowns. Would you count it? You can
settle your debt nicely now."
Miss Bartlett was in the drawing-room, gazing at the photograph
of St. John ascending, which had been framed.
"How dreadful!" she murmured, "how more than dreadful, if Mr.
Vyse should come to hear of it from some other source."
"Oh, no, Charlotte," said the girl, entering the battle. "George
Emerson is all right, and what other source is there?"
Miss Bartlett considered. "For instance, the driver. I saw him
looking through the bushes at you, remember he had a violet
between his teeth."
Lucy shuddered a little. "We shall get the silly affair on our
nerves if we aren't careful. How could a Florentine cab-driver
ever get hold of Cecil?"
"We must think of every possibility."
"Oh, it's all right."
"Or perhaps old Mr. Emerson knows. In fact, he is certain to
know.
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