"But," protested Patricia, "I'm nearly twenty-five, and I am quite able to look after myself."
"Patricia, it is my duty to look after you." Miss Brent spoke as if she were about to walk over heated ploughshares rather than to satisfy a natural curiosity.
"I repeat," proceeded Miss Brent, "where did you meet Colonel Bowen?"
"I have told you, Aunt Adelaide, but you won't believe me."
"I want to know the truth, Patricia. Is he really Lord Peter?" persisted Miss Brent.
"To be quite candid, I've never asked him," replied Patricia.
Miss Brent stared at her niece. The obviously feminine thing was to express surprise; but Miss Brent never did the obvious thing. Instead of repeating, "Never asked him!" she remained silent for some moments while Patricia, with great intentness, proceeded to jerk her gloves into shape.
"Patricia, you are mad!" Miss Brent spoke with conviction.
Patricia glanced up from her occupation and smiled at her aunt as if entirely sharing her conviction.
"It's the price of spinsterhood with some women," was all she said.
Miss Brent glared at her; but there was more than a spice of curiosity in her look.
"Then you decline to tell me?" she enquired.
