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When night came not only Alston lingered, picking by moonlight, but Little Lizay; and this gave rise to much laughing among the other pickers, and to many coarse jokes. But to one who knew her secret it would have seemed piteous the girl's anxious face as the weighing proceeded, drawing on and on to Alston's basket and hers at the very end of the line.
A little later, in the afternoon of the same day, they had held a reception of pressmen in their sitting-room at the St. Regis Hotel. Charmian thought of these men now as she waited for Alston's return. They had been introduced by Mr. Cane, Crayford's publicity agent, and had arrived about three o'clock.
She says she isn't, and, by George! she isn't a girl who would lie; but if she isn't well, I'm beaten, Helen. I can't make it out. At any rate, I did bring her and the lad, and a fine lad he is too, George Alston's son, together. And he left the house without seeing me, and afterwards the girl told me that he was practically a stranger to her, and that there had never been any marriage at all.
"What's that?" she said. "Madre's cablegram," said Claude. "I found I had brought it with me, so I laid it down there. If Madre had come with us she might have occupied that seat. I thought I would let her wish lie there with Alston's roses." Their eyes met in the shadow of the box. On coming into it Claude had turned out the electric burner.
Lady Linden had discussed Hugh Alston's marriage with Mrs. Pontifex, the Rector's wife, who in turn had discussed it with others. So, little by little, the story had leaked out, and all Cornbridge knew it, and Mr. Slotman found ample corroboration of Lady Linden's story. Not till he was in the train did Mr. Slotman begin to gather together all the threads of evidence.
"An' yer didn't haudly git clear," she replied, adding to herself that to-morrow she must be more generous with her help to Alston. But on the morrow something occurred which dismayed the girl. She had shaken her sack over Alston's basket, designing to empty a third of its contents there, and then the remainder in her "pick."
I hardly like to touch you now, but unless you go " "I am going." Slotman moved stiffly towards the door. "Ask Lady Linden of Cornbridge. She believes to this day that Joan Meredyth is Hugh Alston's wife." "By heavens! If you don't go " Slotman glanced at him; he saw that he was over-stepping the danger-line. Yes, he must go, and quickly, so he went.
"Doesn't the table look pretty, Alston, with Mr. Crayford's white heather?" She had Alston's red roses in her hand. "I am going to put your roses in water now." She turned again to the waiter. "Could I have some water put in that vase, please? And we'll have supper at once." "Certainly, ma'am!" "Come and see the menu, both of you, and tell me if you are satisfied with it."
But Sir Peregrine had not answered it. Lord Alston's servant had been dismissed with a promise that an answer should be sent, but at the end of the three days it had not yet been written. His mind indeed was still sore towards Lord Alston.
From her babyhood to this day of her girlhood, it had been Philip Alston's pride and happiness to dress her as the proudest and richest father might dress his daughter, in the midst of the highest civilization. Ruth knew nothing else, and those who knew her would scarcely have known her, seeing her otherwise.
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