Meanwhile, Mrs. Greaves was on her way, in the rain and the wind, to the station. "If history doesn't repeat itself," she was reflecting in anxious forebodement, "I shall be very thankful, but very much surprised."
When she got home she informed her husband that Ellen Munro was even a greater fool than she had always believed her to be.
"What has she been doing now?" he inquired, without particular interest. "She has allowed Trixie to get engaged to that Coventry man we knew a hundred years ago in India. He is old enough to be her father, and he divorced his wife for nothing, and never bothered himself afterwards as to what became of her when the other man didn't marry her."
"Coventry? But he wasn't at all a bad sort of fellow!" said Colonel Greaves. "As straight as they make 'em, and such a good shot, if that is the man you mean. I remember his wife. Now she was a fool, if you like; he was far too good for her."
"You men always stick up for each other," protested his wife. "No doubt you are as ready to praise that horrible man who ruined poor Mrs. Coventry's life. I can't remember his name at this moment."
Colonel Greaves wisely made no reply.