Towards the end Gammon grew silent and meditative. He kept gazing at
the windows as if for aid in some calculation. When Polly at last
threw down her cheese-knife, glowing with the thought that she had
dined well at somebody else's expense, he leaned forward on the
table, looked her in the eyes, and began a momentous dialogue.
CHAPTER XIII
GAMMON THE CRAFTY
"What did you want to do such a silly thing as that for?"
Polly stared in astonishment.
"What d'you mean?"
"Why did you let out to Mrs. Clover what you knew?"
The girl's colour deepened by a shade (it was already rich), and her
eyes grew alarmed, suspicious, watchful.
"I didn't let out what I knew," she answered rather confused.
It was Gammon's turn to watch keenly.
"Not all, of course not," he remarked slyly. "But why couldn't you
keep it to yourself that you'd met him?"
Polly's eyes wandered. Gammon smiled with satisfaction.
"I'd have kept that to myself," he said in a friendly way. "I know
how it was, of course; you got riled and came out with it.
Pages:
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159