"Oh, well, that's something," murmured Nora cheerfully.
"You can't make money at chemi," went on Hornby, relapsing once more into gloom; "the cagnotte's bound to clear you out in the end. When I come back I'm going to stick to bridge. There are always plenty of mugs about, and if you have a good head for cards, you can't help making an income out of it."
"But I thought you said you were never going——" began Miss Pringle, but, thinking better of it, abandoned her sentence in mid-air.
"Here is your letter," said Nora, holding it out to him.
"Thanks, awfully. I daresay I shan't want it, you know. I expect I shall get offered a job the moment I land, but there's no harm having it. I'll be getting along."
"Good-by, then, and good luck."
"Good-by," he said, shaking hands with Nora and Miss Pringle.
"Nora, why don't you go out to Canada?" said Miss Pringle thoughtfully, as soon as the door had closed after young Hornby. "Now your brother has a farm of his own, I should think——"
"My brother's married," interrupted Nora quickly. "He married four years ago."
"You never told me."