“Poor dear! We’ll help,” cried Mary. “But I must write to Cannes.”
“Wire!” cried John.
“Of course, wire!” echoed Mary.
“The first thing tomorrow.”
“Before breakfast.”
“Mary, I shall never forget——.”
“No, John, it’s you who——.” and they went off in a torrent of mutual laudation.
Miss Bussey shook her head.
“If they think all that of one another why don’t they marry?” she said.