There was silence for a moment, then she went on musingly: "Strange how even the most timid of our sex can display firmness and
determination when they have made up their minds to do so. Though Susie
has been implored to disclose his name, she has refused to do so. Those
childish little lips of hers close tightly whenever one approaches the
subject, and she has absolutely refused to say one word that would lead
to a clue."
"Perhaps--perhaps the young man was not guilty after all," said Celia.
Lady Gridborough shook her head.
"I'm afraid he was, my dear," she said, with a sigh and a shrug. "She
was very pretty, is so still, and I took a fancy to her and let her help
me when I was pottering about the garden. I used to like to have him
near me, and so they were thrown together. The old story. And yet I
found it hard to believe that Derrick Dene was a scoundrel, and a
heartless one to boot. There! That's enough of it. But as I say, you
would have heard of it sooner or later. Put it out of your head, my
dear; it's not the kind of story to dwell upon; though I suppose
nowadays young girls read and hear about these sort of things every day.
Now mind! you're to come to see me whenever you feel inclined."
Celia promised warmly, and the childless woman stood in the doorway and
sighed as she watched the girlish figure going lightly down the drive.
Celia was feeling very happy; she would try to make a friend of Susie,
and forget the story of her ruin and the name of Derrick Dene.