The satire was lost upon Miss Atherstone. "Not Dutton," she said. "A friend of mine has a sister out in Melbourne."
"I see. So it is on the very best authority. And you came to tell us the news as soon as you heard. How kind!"
"Sir Cyril will no doubt make the matter known when he reaches England."
"No doubt. But I don't see why he should not wait to marry her, and bring her home."
"If he has started—"
"We do not know that he has. The last letter spoke of probably taking their passage—and since then there has been a gap in our correspondence. We have been rather puzzled; but this explains all," said Jean, with the utmost composure. "Sir Cyril has most likely settled at the last moment to stay behind and be married. And in that case my father would, I fancy, come home by Suez. Why, he might arrive any day!"
"Well, I can see that you will not omit to give a welcome to the bride of your old playfellow," said Miss Atherstone, with a touch of something like spite, because she was conscious of failure. She found her feet awkwardly, as she spoke.
"No, indeed! We shall have to make a big arch of welcome at the Brow entrance."
Jean rang the bell, tranquilly shook hands, and smiled Miss Atherstone out of the room. Then she stood still—to think.
"It may be true!" she pronounced slowly, half aloud. "Not sure! But not impossible. How can one tell? Why should he not? We are perfectly free—both of us! I have taken care of that. And I have always said I would not blame him—if—"