“I am so sorry. We have been so happy.”
“I don’t think she will interfere much, Ruth.”
“My dears,” said Judge Rawdon, “I have a letter from Fred Mostyn. He is coming home. He will be in London in a day or two.”
“Why is he coming, father?”
“He says he has a proposal to make about the Manor. I wish he were not coming. No one wants his proposal.” Then the breakfast-table, which had been so gay, became silent and depressed, and presently the Judge went away without exhibiting further interest in the London journey.
“I do wish Dora would let us alone,” said Ruth. “She always brings disappointment or worry of some kind. And I wonder what is the meaning of this unexpected London visit. I thought she was in Holland.”
“She said in her last letter that London would be impossible before August.”
“Is it an appointment—or a coincidence?”
And Ethel, lifting her shoulders sarcastically, as if in hostile surrender to the inevitable, answered:
“It is a fatality!”