As Doran was no stranger to him he came forward, with a rather constrained “Hullo, Doran!”
“Oh, father!” cried Joseline, “we did not expect you till to-morrow. How did you come?”
“In a fly from the station, my dear. I got away earlier than usual. Not playing bridge, eh?”—turning to the man.
“No. The fact is, Lady Joseline was good enough to offer to show me the pictures; but we—er”—and as he glanced at his companion, she vanished through the door.
“I see, you had forgotten all about them,” said Lord Mulgrave, hastily finishing the speech.
Well, there was no time like the present moment; here was his opportunity. Lord Mulgrave was not allowed to take off his top-coat, much less to think of his supper, before Ulick Doran was in full career.
In two or three pithy sentences he told his story. For a few vital moments they talked squarely, man to man. Lord Mulgrave knew all about Major Doran—his reputation and his fortune.
When he had divested himself of his great-coat, he said, “I will not part with Joseline yet, and we will take no one into the secret for six months. The girl has seen nothing so far, but Joseline is not like young women of her rank. She has a past of twenty-one years behind her. She loved you in that other life; you belong to it, and, I suppose,—she belongs to you.”
* * * * *
“I say!” said Tito, as she encountered Joseline in a corridor, “what has happened to you? Why this radiant air of ‘I fear no foe in shining armour’?”