She was prepared for the pity and condescension of the gossips and had made up her mind to stand aloof.
Then came a day when a stranger had registered at the hotel.

She had not noticed him especially, but it was not long before she realized that he was noticing her.

Was he a detective?
Had he found out the truth in some uncanny way?
She felt sure that the name on the hotel register, Malcolm Dodd, was not his real name.
Constance had not been surprised when the head waiter had seated the young man at her table.

No doubt he had manoeuvred it so.

Nor did she avoid the guarded acquaintance that resulted in the natural course of events.
One afternoon, shortly after his arrival, she had encountered him unexpectedly on a walk through the pines.