"Men," as Elizabeth declares, "are such poor judges of what girl another man might want to marry!"
Meanwhile Mrs. Elvey and her daughter were still ensconced at the Lodge, where they were to stay, it seemed, until their host returned. I heard all the news about them, for "you know what gossips men are," says Elizabeth, "men who pretend that we have the monopoly of this fault!"
It was Colonel Fielding who hinted to Elizabeth—who told me—that he fancied those ladies were glad of a comfortable little country place whereat to stay on the cheap now that they had let their London maisonnette. He had an idea that a good deal of Mrs. Elvey's money had gone, lately, in one of the many commercial enterprises that the war had brought down and down.
Which was another reason why pretty Miss Muriel would be glad enough to hook (if she could) a cousin who was also a landed proprietor! Obviously she meant to stay on while there was the ghost of a chance of her being asked to stay for good!
These comments were not mine, by the way, but more of Elizabeth's fiancé's opinions. Really that young man had as broad a streak of what is called "feminine cattishness" in his composition as any girl that ever I met!
Still, for those weeks before the harvest, he was the only channel for me to a world that held Dick Holiday. It was through him that I heard that the medical board had decided that Captain Holiday's nerves required another six weeks' rest before he returned to light duty again.
He remained away.
The only gleam of silver to this black cloud for me was that he remained away, not only from me, but from Muriel as well.
Wasn't this rather curious?
Then I decided that perhaps he was giving Muriel time to make up her mind about him while he was away. Perhaps he clung to that hoary-headed, white-whiskered, mendacious old theory that "absence makes the heart grow fonder."