As soon as they had rounded a corner in the shrubbery, she commenced the attack.

“I want to speak to you of Miles,” she confided. “He is so worried.”

“Is he, Molly? Faith, I hadn’t noticed it!”

She reflected that neither had she, but continued, nothing daunted:

“Ah, but he is!”

“What worries him?”

“You,” sighed the lady mournfully. “ ’Tis the thought of your leaving us. I feel it myself.”

“Why⁠—”

“He had hoped you would be with us for a long time⁠—as I had.”

“ ’Tis monstrous good of you both, but⁠—”