Judy was silent a moment.
' What about Mrs. Emsworth?' she asked suddenly.
Ginger had got hold of a large Persian cat, and was stroking it. The animal was in the full ecstasy of sensuous pleasure, with eyes shut and neck strained to his hand. But, as Judy asked this, he paused a moment, and stroked it the wrong way. It hit at him with its paw, and fled in violent indignation.
' Well, what about Mrs. Emsworth?' he repeated.
' Ginger, don't be ridiculous. It is loyal of you to pretend not to know what I mean, but still ridiculous. How has Bertie managed to do this under her very guns?'
' I suppose he silenced them first,' said Ginger cautiously. ' Or perhaps she has no guns.'
' Why, then, two years ago, did we all talk about nothing else but her and Bertie?'
' Because we are gossips,' said he.
' Do you mean that?'
Ginger examined his injured hand.
' Yes, I mean that,' he said. ' Bertie told me all that happened. He fell desperately in love with her; he wrote her a very foolish letter, which proposed, oh, all sorts of things—marriage among them. Immediately afterwards she—well, we all began talking about her and Bilton.'
' What happened to the letter?' asked Judy.
' Don't know,' said he.
Judy was silent a little.
' Anyhow, it all hangs together with your idea about Sybil and Bilton,' she said at length.
' I wondered if you were going to see that,' said Ginger rather loftily.
Judy went to the window and looked out.
' I like that fog,' she said, ' because it renders all traffic and business of all sorts out of the question. I like the
