"And so you have really come, after all, my dear old boy," his sister cried, with her arms about his neck. "This is good of you! A piece of luck that I never expected!"
"Yes, I've come. Awfully glad to get into clean air, out of those stinking streets. How are the kids? Why didn't you let me come last night?"
"Oh, the kids are as right as possible. You won't know them, they have grown so. Of course they are in bed and asleep, or they would be pulling you down between them."
She was hoping the tiresome brats wouldn't begin to talk of Jenny the first thing in the morning, and he was anxiously peering over her shoulder.
"Why did you stop me yesterday, Polly?"
"Oh, for reasons—never mind now, as long as you are here. Come in and have some supper. You must be hungry and tired after your long journey. Did you bring me some fish? Oh, thanks. It will be a treat, after weeks of Murray cod."
He followed her across the hall into the dining-room, where half the table was spread with a tempting meal. He looked around; there was no one there. He looked at Mary, and he thought she blushed.
"Where is Miss Liddon?" he inquired coolly. "Has she gone to bed?"
This time Mary blushed unmistakably. She exchanged a faltering glance with her husband, who sidled out of the room; then she rallied her dignity, and quietly replied that Miss Liddon was not with her.
"She was here two days ago," said Tony darkly.