"Married—married in the drawing-room here. Father wished it."
"And you?" demanded her breathless inquisitor.
"Oh no."
Here, within a few hours, was the second shock which Mrs. Ffinch had sustained. To return to a hum-drum neighbourhood, after merely a week's absence, and to find awaiting her, not only a sudden death, but a sudden, amazing, and crazy marriage! Her head felt swimming; yet such was the lady's ruling passion and ardour for managing, that even this unparalleled situation, presented its compensations! With admirable persistence and patience, she succeeded in dragging some facts from her half-stunned and apathetic companion; and when all was made clear, she said:
"Fancy! of all people in the world—you and Derek Mayne! Such a hopelessly unsuitable couple to be chained together for life! What have you in common?"
Nancy shook her head. She was not in a frame of mind to furnish either reasons, or arguments.
"Nothing whatever," resumed Mrs. Ffinch, answering her own question. "Certainly not sport—you merely went shooting, so as to be with your Daddy: you know you hate killing things; you and Mayne agreed to sacrifice yourselves, just to give that poor fellow an easy mind. My dear, have you thought of the future?"
Nancy made no reply, her eyes were fastened on the corner of the room. Undoubtedly her thoughts were miles away from her companion.
"Has Captain Mayne any plans? Come, come, Nancy, don't look so dull, and dazed."
"I don't know."