In general it was to her
a matter for fond complacency that her husband had no memory for gossip,
and was in such matters as innocent and as dangerous as a child. But
this was too much. At the same moment Ashe came quickly forward.
"My sister?" said Kitty. "My sister?"
She spoke low and uncertainly, her eyes fixed upon the Dean.
He looked at her with a sudden odd sense of something unusual, then went
on, still floundering:
"We met her at St. Pancras on our way down. If I had only known we were
to have had the pleasure of meeting you--Do you know, I think she is
looking decidedly better?"
His kindly expression as he rose expected a word of sisterly assent.
Meanwhile even Lady Grosville was paralyzed, and the words with which
she had meant to interpose failed on her lips.
Kitty, too, rose, looking round for something, which she seemed to find
in the face of William Ashe, for her eyes clung there.
"My sister," she repeated, in the same low, strained voice. "My sister
Alice? I--I don't know. I have never seen her."
* * * * *
Ashe could not remember afterwards precisely how the incident closed.
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