I had a sharp stab of remembrance. "Ah, yes. Her cousin," I said as casually as I could.
Harry, more humbly than I had ever heard him speak, said: "He's got that fine old place and everything. My people have only the money they made. I understand her preferring what Holiday could give her."
He concluded, huskily: "He's the fellow she will marry, I expect."
We were fellow-sufferers in the thought, Harry and I!
With quick sympathy I laid my hand lightly on his red-tabbed shoulder.
"Poor old boy! I'm so sorry."
"You're a little brick," muttered Harry. Dropping his chin, he put a small grateful kiss upon my fingers as they lay on his jacket.
It was this scene that met the eyes of Dick Holiday as he turned the corner of the path, coming to see what had become of us.