"But certainly not, Mademoiselle," vowed Céline, who spoke excellent English, though the two ladies loved proudly to air their French for her benefit. "It is indeed true that Mademoiselle will marry this Monsieur American?"
"It is indeed true," Marise repeated drily.
"It won't take place—I mean the wedding—for some time, however," Mrs. Sorel hurried to add.
Marise said nothing, but looked suddenly as mulish as a beautiful girl can look. She had been wondering whether or no to confide in Mums what was in her mind, and see what Mums would say and think about it. But on the instant she decided "No." She knew beforehand what Mums would think and say. Everything would be from Tony's point of view. Mums was obsessed with the wonder and majesty and glory of the great—soon to be the rich—Lord Severance! The news should be sprung on Mums at the last moment, when everything was "fixed up."
Meanwhile, Zélie was snatching a few words with Garth—not the words she wanted personally to speak, but as nearly those as she dared.
"Jack Garth!" she whispered, "Miss Sorel told me just now you and she are going to be married. She wasn't joking?"
"I hope not," said Garth steadily, "because I'd be—rather cut up if I thought it was a joke."
"Listen, Jack," Zélie hurried on. "We're pals—we've been pals for a long time. I want you to be happy. I'd do a whole lot to make you happy. So you've just got to forgive me if I say.... Do you know what you're doing? Can you be happy? That girl—I mean, Miss Sorel—doesn't love you any more than she does me. And that isn't a little bit!"
"I love her," said Garth. "I don't care a damn whether I'm happy or not."
"Oh! Then it's all right. Of course, I suppose you know your own business. Still—Jack—I can't help feeling there's something queer—some sort of mystery. Don't let yourself be deceived."