CHAPTER XXXVI
THE HARVEST-MOON
"Oh, moon of my delight!"
—OMAR KHAYYAM.
About Muriel's piece of news a good deal was said, later on, by Colonel Fielding.
He declared that Miss Muriel, who had played all she knew to marry the Holiday property, now saw that the game was absolutely up, and that she had better fall back at once upon the other ... er ... source of comfort and luxury. He, Colonel Fielding, vowed that her intention to write to "that unfortunate blighter, Markham," was born then and there on the steps of the farmhouse as her cousin strafed her. He also told Elizabeth that Miss Muriel's last hope was to irritate Miss Matthews, whom she had always suspected of a tendresse for young Markham.
To all this the Man-hater replied that if the "Falconer" made any more of his catty remarks about the future Mrs. Markham, it would merely show him up as a disappointed admirer of hers. I believe they "chipped" each other happily for hours about this.
But to return to the actual moment of Muriel's staggering announcement.
She looked round for its effect. Certainly she got it.
All eyes gazed upon the pretty creature standing there. Engaged! Another engagement in the place! This excitement eclipsed all thought of the fire, the incendiary Germans, the commandant (who couldn't come, by the way, until next day). For an instant we stared; and Muriel's cousin seemed the most dumfounded.
But he pulled himself together the first. Holding out his hand, he exclaimed heartily: "Good! The best of luck, my child!" He wrung her small fingers, beaming all over his face.