Slade opened the door, and Mr. Dalrymple returned to his work. He expected an interval of two or three minutes to elapse before the caller should appear, and two or three minutes were in his estimation too valuable to be wasted in idle waiting.
He did not see a figure just outside the door, or a silencing hand raised when Slade would have spoken; nor did he see that as Slade glided out somebody else glided in.
Five minutes or more went by before it occurred to Mr. Dalrymple that Slade really was an unconscionable time absent. He lifted his eyes involuntarily, and they fell upon a gentleman standing in an attitude of careless ease not far from the writing-table.
The sunshine was full in Mr. Dalrymple's face, while the other stood in shade. He rose politely, with an apologetic, "I beg your pardon. I did not hear your name announced."
"It was not. I would not let Slade speak."
The voice agitated Mr. Dalrymple strangely, for it was the voice of his only and beloved brother, dead many long years before. Harvey had inherited from the grandfather, whom he had never even seen, tones and tricks of speech to a singular degree. Mr. Dalrymple knew in an instant who his visitor was—would have known had the room been pitch dark.
"Harvey, my dear fellow!" he said, as three strides brought him round the table.
It had been a matter of doubt with Harvey what manner of welcome he might find. True, his was not a prodigal's return, since he had led a life free from vicious indulgences. Such things were "not in his line," he would have said. He had only been unmanageably indolent, and politely persistent in having his own way. Moreover, although he undoubtedly "owed Mr. Dalrymple something," as Marjory expressed it, he was an independent man of means; and since his own father had lived till he was twenty-one, his great-uncle had never possessed any legal control over his movements.
Still, Harvey Dalrymple was the old man's heir, and was at least indebted to him for long kindness and affection. If Harvey had a right to act for himself, Mr. Dalrymple had a right to be made aware of his intentions. This, which Marjory felt keenly, Harvey ought to have felt no less keenly.
Perhaps he did feel it, since he had hurried home before the end of his honeymoon to explain and apologise; since too he certainly counted on a measure of possible annoyance.