Exactly the same name as poor "Cousin Jim" who disappeared. Did he
remember her old playmate Jim? But her brother thought something else
was a deuced sight more odd, namely, that this same Don Diego Fletcher
was said to be very sweet on Clementina now, and was always in her
company at the Ramirez. And that, with this "Clarion" apology on the top
of it, looked infernally queer.
Mrs. Ashwood felt a sudden consternation. Here had she--Jack's
sister--just been taking Jack's probable rival into confidential
correspondence! She turned upon Jack sharply:--
"Why didn't you say that before?"
"I did tell you," he said gloomily, "but you didn't listen. But what
difference does it make to you now?"
"None whatever," said Mrs. Ashwood calmly as she walked out of the room.
Nevertheless the afternoon passed wearily, and her usual ride into the
upland canyon did not reanimate her. For reasons known best to herself
she did not take her after-dinner stroll along the shore to watch the
outlying fog. At a comparatively early hour, while there was still a
roseate glow in the western sky, she appeared with grim deliberation,
and the blue lamp-shade in her hand, and placed it over the lamp which
she lit and stood on her table beside the window. This done she sat down
and began to write with bright-eyed but vicious complacency.
"But you don't want that light AND the window, Constance," said Jack
wonderingly.
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