They went into the house, and during the meal that followed Bertrand made himself gracefully agreeable to both ladies.  So delicate were his attentions that Chris found herself more than once on the verge of hysterical laughter.

But when he left them at length, with many apologies, to resume his interrupted labours, her sense of humour ceased to vibrate.  Never before had she desired her husband’s presence as she desired it then.

Her hope that Aunt Philippa might retire to her room to rest was a very slender one, and destined almost from the outset to disappointment.  Aunt Philippa was on the war trail, and she would not rest until she had tracked down her quarry.

She began at once to speak of her morning’s visit to Mrs. Pouncefort, whom she knew as a London hostess.  Personally, she disapproved of her, but she could not afford to pass her over, since her status in society was by no means inconsiderable, being, in fact, almost capable of rivalling her own.

“I should have remained to luncheon,” she said, “but for the fact that you were here quite unchaperoned.  Had you accompanied me, as I had hoped you would, I should not have had to hasten back in the heat.”

“But I wasn’t invited,” said Chris, “and I know every inch of those gardens.  I knew them long ago, before the Pounceforts came.”

“The invitation,” said Aunt Philippa, not to be diverted from her purpose, “was quite casual.  You could quite well have accompanied me.  In fact, I think Mrs. Pouncefort was surprised not to see you.  However, we need not discuss that further.  Doubtless you had your own reasons for desiring to remain at home, and I shall not ask you what those reasons were.  What I do ask, and what I think I have a right to know, is whether you have had the proper feeling to tell your husband that the Captain Rodolphe you met at Pouncefort Court a little while ago is the man with whom you were so deplorably intimate at Valpre in your girlhood, or whether you have had the audacity to pretend that he was a total stranger to you.”

Chris almost gasped at this unexpected attack, but its directness compelled an instant reply without pausing to consider the position.

“I was never intimate with Captain Rodolphe,” she said quickly.  “I never spoke to him before the other day.”

And there she stopped suddenly short, arrested by the look of open incredulity with which her aunt received her hasty statement.

There was a moment’s silence.  Then, “Really!” said Aunt Philippa.  “He gave Mrs. Pouncefort to understand otherwise.”

Chris felt the blood rush to her face.  This was intolerable.  “What did he give Mrs. Pouncefort to understand?” she demanded.

“Merely that you were old friends,” said Aunt Philippa, with the calm superiority of one not to be shaken in her belief.

“Then he lied!” said Chris fiercely.

Aunt Philippa said “Indeed!” with raised eyebrows.