“Is it,” she asked at length, “within your province to tell me any more than this?” “I think,” Robert replied, “that I have nothing more to tell. If you wish it, I will leave this copy with you; I understood Mrs. Clarendon to say that you might keep it.” “Thank you, I will do so.” She rose and took it from his hand. “There is one thing,” she said, “that I should like to ask you; I dare say you will have no objection to answer. Are the provisions of this will generally known--to Mrs. Clarendon’s friends, I would say?” “In all probability they are,” was his reply. “Thank you.” Clearly there was nothing more to be said on either side. Any comment from Asquith was of course out of the question, and Ada, at all times so chary of her conversation, was not likely to give utterance to her feelings under the present circumstances. She moved away, slightly returned the other’s bow, and went from the room. At luncheon Ada did not appear. It was not an uncommon thing for her to take meals by herself; but Mrs. Clarendon and Robert felt that her absence to-day had a significance. She was at dinner, however, and behaved as usual. Nothing in her betrayed a change in her state of mind. Whilst Rhoda was reading in the garden in the afternoon, Mrs. Clarendon strayed apart with her cousin. “You have told her?” she said, meeting Robert’s look. “Yes, and left the copy of the will with her. It seems to have made her oblivious of lunch.” “Poor girl!” The exclamation was a sincere one. Robert looked surprised. “Did she ask you many questions?” Isabel continued. “Two: whether I had anything more to tell her; and whether I thought that the will was generally known? To the former I said ‘No;’ to the latter ‘Yes.’” “Whether it was generally known,” repeated Isabel, with a low laugh of a not very mirthful kind. Then, after a pause, “What do people say of me? What is the common talk about me? What do the men say? and--oh! the women?” “My dear cousin, you know perfectly well what they say; what they have been saying since they first began to talk about you--that you are a charming woman, and so good-hearted that no one can for shame breathe a word against you.” Isabel sighed. “Rather, so shameless that gossip has not yet found the proper term to characterise me. Well, never mind myself; happily I shall soon cease to be an object of any general interest. But did she not ask any question about the value of the property?” “No word of it. She kept me strictly at arm’s length.” “And she displayed no--no emotion?” “At first, yes; she was extremely agitated. But she held it down. I imagine she is what is called a woman of character. I had rather not be her husband.” Isabel made no reply, but walked on with her head bent. “Will you let me ask you,” Robert began, “had you any particular reason for wishing to inform her of these matters just now?”