"Three years, I believe."
"And then only for an hour or two in London, at intervals of six months! I hope that you are going to be a little more sociable now, and run down to see us occasionally."
The brother and sister looked at each other steadily for a moment without speaking. Each knew well enough what was in the other's mind.
"Yes," said Hubert at last, in a peculiarly light and careless voice, "I think I shall." He crossed his legs, and settled himself into an easier position in his chair. "Beechfield is not a bad place to stay at for a few days—or even a few weeks—now and then. And you seem very comfortable, Florence."
"Yes," she said, "I am comfortable. The General is very kind."
"And you have a fine boy—a nice little chap," said Hubert, still lightly.
"Yes; he is a healthy child," she answered, in the mechanical way in which she had spoken before.
Hubert gave her a keen glance. He looked at the long but not ungraceful lines of her slender figure, at the blue veins which showed themselves in the dead white of her hands, at the shade beneath her eyes, and knitted his brows a trifle impatiently. Then he spoke in lowered tones which betrayed some suppressed emotion.
"You have gained all that you wanted," he said—"you ought to be satisfied."
She stirred a little in her chair, and allowed a faint smile to appear upon her lips.