There she was, down by the edge of the waves.  She would not turn to see if he were coming; he felt sure of that.  Whether she heard his footsteps he could not tell.  When quite close to her, he exclaimed,—­

‘Well, Rhoda?’ She must have known of his approach, for she gave no start.

She faced slowly to him.  No trace of tears on her countenance; no, Rhoda was above that.  Gravity of the sternest—­that was all.

‘Well,’ he continued, ‘what have you to say to me?’

‘I?  Nothing.’

’You mean that it is my business to explain what Mary has told you.  I can’t, so there’s an end of it.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked in clear, distant tones.

’Precisely what I say, Rhoda.  And I am obliged to ask what you mean by this odd way of speaking to me.  What has happened since we parted this morning?’

Rhoda could not suppress her astonishment; she gazed fixedly at him.

‘If you can’t explain this letter, who can?’

’I suppose Mrs. Widdowson would be able to account for her doings.  I certainly am not able to.  And it seems to me that you are strangely forgetful of something that passed between us yesterday.’

‘Of what?’ she asked coldly, her face, which was held proudly up, turning towards the sea.

’Evidently you accuse me of concealing something from you.  Please to remember a certain plain question you asked me, and the equally plain answer I gave.’

He detected the beginning of a smile about her rigid lips.

‘I remember,’ she said.

’And you can still behave to me with indignation?  Surely the indignation should be on my side.  You are telling me that I deceived you.’

For a moment Rhoda lost her self-control.

‘How can I help thinking so?’ she exclaimed, with a gesture of misery.  ’What can this letter mean?  Why should she go to your rooms?’

‘I simply don’t know, Rhoda.’

He preserved the show of calmness just because he saw that it provoked her to anger.

‘She has never been there before?’

‘Never to my knowledge.’

Rhoda watched his face with greedy attention.  She seemed to find there a confirmation of her doubts.  Indeed, it was impossible for her to credit his denials after what she had observed in London, and the circumstances which, even before Mary’s letter, had made her suspicious.

‘When did you last see Mrs. Widdowson?’

‘No, I shan’t consent to be cross-examined,’ replied Everard, with a disdainful smile.  ’As soon as you refuse to accept my word it’s folly to ask further questions.  You don’t believe me.  Say it honestly and let us understand each other.’

’I have good reason for thinking that you could explain Mrs. Widdowson’s behaviour if you chose.’