She had the tact to greet Durrance as one who suffered under no disadvantage, and she spoke as though she had seen him only the week before.
"I suppose Ethne has told you of our plan," she said, as she took her tea from her friend's hand.
"No, not yet," Ethne answered.
"What plan?" asked Durrance.
"It is all arranged," said Mrs. Adair. "You will want to go home to Guessens in Devonshire. I am your neighbour—a couple of fields separate us, that's all. So Ethne will stay with me during the interval before you are married."
"That's very kind of you, Mrs. Adair," Durrance exclaimed; "because, of course, there will be an interval."
"A short one, no doubt," said Mrs. Adair.
"Well, it's this way. If there's a chance that I may recover my sight, it would be better that I should seize it at once. Time means a good deal in these cases."
"Then there is a chance?" cried Ethne.
"I am going to see a specialist here to-morrow," Durrance answered. "And, of course, there's the oculist at Wiesbaden. But it may not be necessary to go so far. I expect that I shall be able to stay at Guessens and come up to London when it is necessary. Thank you very much, Mrs. Adair. It is a good plan." And he added slowly, "From my point of view there could be no better."