"Have come! Then they are now—"
"In Newhaven! Waiting for your arrival. Mr. Trevelyan is at the hotel—and Sir Cyril—is—"
The stranger hesitated: paused near a lamp; pushed higher his penthouse of a cap; and said in a different voice—
"Jean, am I so changed?"
"Cyril!!!"
"And so, Mabel, everything is settled, and they are all going to be married as fast as possible, don't you know?" stated Mrs. Kennedy, a few days later, to her usual confidante.
Mabel, having been absent from home, required instruction on the recent course of events.
"I don't know, I'm sure, why they should wait. Sir Cyril has plenty of money; and now that funny Mme. Collier is coming to live again at Dulveriford Rectory, why, nobody can say Jean can't be spared."
"She'll make a splendid Lady Devereux—as nice as any one could wish. As for poor Miss Devereux, why, she must just make up her mind to it. But they say she was as nice as anything when Sir Cyril came home, and cried in his arms, like I don't know what—having been so frightened about him, and all, don't you see? That does soften people sometimes. And, after all, she isn't hard—she's only just Miss Devereux. And she's to have a sweet little house built, and everything done to make her comfortable. So she can't complain."
"Not that we shall have so very much of Sir Cyril and Jean in Dutton. I can see that! They're all agog for London, and East-End work, and no end of philanthropicalness."