ou," added Lady Eynesford.

"Dick lonely! What nonsense! It only means he wants to come back, Mary."

Dick's pathos was evidently a broken reed. Lady Eynesford let it go, and
said,

"Anyhow, you might take advantage of his being there to see Australia."

"I don't want to see Australia," answered Alicia. "I much prefer New
Lindsey."

"You don't jump at Mary's proposal?"

"I utterly decline," laughed Alicia, and, taking the book she had come
in search of, she went out.

"You see. She won't go," remarked Lady Eynesford.

"I never thought she would. What were you going to say when she came
in?"

Lady Eynesford rose and stood by her husband.

"Willie," she said, "what is it about the Medlands? I'm tired of not
knowing whether there is anything or whether there isn't."

"I don't know, my dear. There's some gossip, I believe," said Lord
Eynesford discreetly.

"Do you know what Mrs. Puttock said to Eleanor? Eleanor ought to have
told me at once, but she only did last night. Eleanor asked something
about his wife, and Mrs. Puttock said, 'For my part, I don't believe he
ever had a wife.'" Lady Eynesford repeated the all-important sentence
with scrupulous accuracy.

"By Jove!" exclaimed the Governor. "That was what--" He checked himself
before Kilshaw's name could leave his lips.

"Yes? Now, Willie, if that's true or--or anything like it, you know, is
it right for Alicia to be constantly with Daisy Medland and--and in and
out of the house, you know?"

The Governor looked grave. The thing was tangible enough now, and
demanded to be dealt with more urgently than it ever had before.

"It's a pity Eleanor didn't speak sooner," he said.

"She thought less of it because Mrs. Puttock is a vulgar old gossip."

"Yes; but I'm afraid there may be something in it. Why did Eleanor tell
you now?"

"Because I was speaking to her about the way Mr. Medland monopolised
Alicia in the Park the other afternoon."

"Oh, that was my fault."

"It makes no difference how it came about. Willie, she had eyes and ears
for no one else," and Lady Eynesford's voice became very earnest.

"But it's preposterous, Mary. You must be wrong. There couldn't possibly
be anything of the kind."

"You know the sort of girl she is," his wife went on. "She's--well,
she's easily caught by an idea, and rather romantic, and--really, dear,
we ought to be careful."

"I can't believe it. If it's true, Medland has treated me very badly."

"What does