"Well, I don't suppose we should," he admitted reluctantly.
"Now look here, Captain Mayne," turning to pace beside him. "I must speak my mind. You don't care a pin for one another. Nancy is a mere child of freedom, a child still in many ways, and totally inexperienced; you spend your life in military harness. What will become of her as a regimental lady?"
Mayne coloured, and gave a short uneasy laugh.
"Oh, she'll be all right, I daresay."
"Why, only the other day you solemnly assured me, that you wouldn't marry for years—if ever. I remember you quoted Kipling, 'He travels fastest, who travels alone.'"
"That's true," he admitted, "but unexpected things happen. One never can tell. I daresay Nancy and I will worry along as well as other people."
"What a nice, cheerful way of looking at it," exclaimed Mrs. Ffinch.
"Well, of course we have made an awkward sort of start; and at present Nancy, who used to be my best friend, cannot endure me in her sight. I shall let her have everything her own way—anyhow for a time—for I can thoroughly understand her feelings. Only for me, her father might be here talking to you at this moment. However, I intend to do my big best. Perhaps once Nancy has left these surroundings, she may not take things so desperately hard. Our Colonel's wife is a rare good sort, and will mother her; and I'll bring along the old ayah, the pony, and the dog, so that she won't feel altogether too strange. I must go down the day after to-morrow; and there are lots of things to settle up before that."
"You will come over, and say good-bye to us, won't you? Hector would like to see you, to talk business. He is arranging for a temporary manager until he hears from Mr. Fletcher. He sent him a cable yesterday."
After a little conversation respecting the new manager, and the winding-up of the household, Mrs. Ffinch returned to Nancy, whom she found precisely as she had left her, sitting with clasped hands, and downcast eyes, staring hard at the floor.