he care?" asked Lady Eynesford. "How I wish she would go
away! Nothing I say seems to make any impression on her."

"Perhaps Medland has noticed nothing, even if you're right about
Alicia."

"He couldn't help noticing."

"What? Do you mean she makes it----?"

"I don't want to say anything unkind, but--well, yes, I'm afraid she
does."

The Governor took a pace along the room.

"Upon my word," he exclaimed impatiently, "the way we get mixed up with
these people is absurdly awkward. First there's Dick----"

"That's nothing to this. Dick was never really serious, and Alicia's
always serious, if she thinks about a thing at all."

"Well, well, of course it must be stopped. What are you going to do?"

"She must be told," said Lady Eynesford.

"I won't tell her."

"Then I must."

"I wonder if you're not wrong after all."

"Oh, watch them!" retorted Lady Eynesford, and, leaving her husband, she
sought Alicia and invited her to come and have a talk in the verandah.

Alicia, when thus summoned, was sitting with Eleanor Scaife, and they
were both watching Captain Heseltine's fox terrier jump over a
walking-stick under his master's tuition. It was a suitable enough
amusement for a hot day; and it was engrossing enough to prevent Eleanor
raising her eyes at the sound of Lady Eynesford's voice. In fact, she
was not over and above anxious to meet that lady's glance. Eleanor had,
in the light of recent events, grown rather doubtful of the wisdom of
her wonderful discretion, and Lady Eynesford had intimated, with her
usual clearness of statement, a decided opinion that not Eleanor, but
she herself was the proper person to judge what should and should not be
told to Alicia. She had enforced her moral by hinting at very
distressing consequences which might follow on Eleanor's unfortunate
reticence.

"I sometimes think," Eleanor remarked to Heseltine, when Alicia had left
them, "that perfect openness and candour are always best."

Captain Heseltine lowered the walking-stick and looked at her with an
air of expectancy.

"It saves so much misunderstanding, if you tell everybody everything
right out," continued Eleanor.

"For my part," returned Heseltine, with an earnestness which he rarely
displayed, "I differ utterly. I've never in my life told anybody
anything without being sorry I hadn't held my tongue."

"Oh, you mean your private affairs."

"Well, and you? Oh, I see. You only mean other people's. Agreed, agreed!