‘Where is Margery?’ I said. ‘Oh, Dick, don’t be a fool!’
Again he blew his nose.
‘Out in the garden,’ he said. ‘Are you going now?’
‘Yes. The pentathlon begins in ten minutes. Nothing has happened. Just the pentathlon!’
I walked out of the dining-room, leaving him still there, into the blinding blaze of sunshine. She—the She—was sitting in a chair at the end of the lawn, and my mother beside her. The latter got up as I came near.
‘You have heard?’ she said; and in her beloved face there was that look which I have seen three or four times in my life, when great sorrow or great joy has brought us into that union which, so I verily believe, can only exist between mother and son. I knew that she had guessed what unspoken word to Margery had been on my lips.
‘Yes; Dick told me,’ said I.
‘Be a man, then,’ said she, seeing that I knew that she knew. ‘And God bless you, my darling, and comfort you.’
It was but a step to where Margery sat, and I held out both hands.
‘Oh, Jack, I am so happy!’ she said, and with that she rose on tiptoe, put her arms round my neck, and kissed me. It was all right, you see, that she should do that now, for she was my friend, and I was Dick’s friend, and she loved Dick.