Ingram."
"I might, no doubt," Ingram said. "Hitherto, I've preferred to travel. But
I'm home for good now, so far as I can see."
"We all hope so," said Lady Maria. "But that remains to be seen."
"Of course it does," said Ingram blandly, and turned to Sanchia. "I
thought your mother looking very well. Your father wasn't there. I saw
Philippa, by the way; but I suppose she didn't remember me. That was her
husband with her, I take it. Stiff old boy." So he went on, letting
bygones be bygones. It was after luncheon that her ordeal came.
Lady Maria having departed for her siesta, he came instantly to Sanchia
with his hand out for her. "Sancie, I couldn't talk before all those
people. You must forgive me, my dear. You are too good a sort--you must
forgive me."
He had to wait; but slowly she lifted her hand and let him take it. "I
have forgiven you," she said. He stroked her arm.
"That's nice of you--that's like you. I know that I behaved like a brute.
I was awfully cut up about it afterwards--but, as you know, I had great
provocation."
"Not from me, I think." Her eyes were upon him now.
"No, no," he admitted; "certainly not from you; but--well, perhaps I may
say that I had some ground for thinking that you--possibly--No, I don't
think I ought to say that.
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