The truer conclusion appeared to be, that she was deeply interested in some absent (and possibly lost) young creature; whose age, judging by actions and tones which had sufficiently revealed that part of the secret to me, could not be more than sixteen or seventeen years.

How long had she cherished the hope of seeing the girl, or hearing of her?
It must have been, anyhow, a hope very deeply rooted, for she had been perfectly incapable of controlling herself when I had accidentally roused it.

As for her husband, there could be no doubt that the subject was not merely distasteful to him, but so absolutely infuriating that he could not even keep his temper, in the presence of a third person invited to his house.

Had he injured the girl in any way?
Was he responsible for her disappearance?
Did his wife know it, or only suspect it?
Who _was_ the girl?
What was the secret of Mrs.
Farnaby's extraordinary interest in her--Mrs.Farnaby, whose marriage was childless; whose interest one would have thought should be naturally concentrated on her adopted daughter, her sister's orphan child?
In conjectures such as these, I completely lost myself.

Let me hear what your ingenuity can make of the puzzle; and let me return to Mr.
Farnaby's dinner, waiting on Mr.Farnaby's table.
The servant threw open the drawing-room door, and the most honoured guest present led Mrs.Farnaby to the dining-room.