"Only an understanding?"
"Well, she doesn't wear a ring, for one thing."
"I wish you would tell me just how it stands," said Engelhardt, inquisitively. His heart was beating, nevertheless.
"Tell you?" said Tom Chester, looking only into the glass as he flourished his razor. "Why, certainly. I don't wonder at your wanting to know how a fine girl like that could go and engage herself to a God-forsaken image like Gilroy. I don't know, mind you. I wasn't here in Mr. Pryse's time; but everyone says he was a good sort, and that the worse thing he ever did was to take on Gilroy, just because he was some sort of relation of his dead wife's. He's second cousin to Miss Pryse, that's what Gilroy is; but he was overseer here when the boss was his own manager, and when he died Gilroy got the management, naturally. Well, and then he got the girl, too—the Lord knows how. She knew that her father thought well of the skunk, and no doubt she herself felt it was the easiest way out of her responsibilities and difficulties. Ay, she was a year or two younger then than she is now, and he got the promise of her; but I'll bet you an even dollar he never gets her to keep."
The piano-tuner had with difficulty sat still upon the bed, as he listened to this seemingly impartial version of the engagement which had numbed his spirit from the moment he heard of it. Tom Chester had spoken with many pauses, filled by the tinkle of his razor against a healthy beard three days old. When he offered to bet the dollar, he was already putting the razor away in its case.
"I won't take you," said Engelhardt. "You don't think she'll marry him, then?" he added, anxiously.
"Tar here on the brisket," remarked Chester, in the shearer's formula, as he dabbed at a cut that he had discovered under his right jaw. "What's that! Marry him? No; of course she won't."
Engelhardt waited while the overseer performed elaborate ablutions and changed his clothes. Then they crossed over together to the front veranda, which was empty; but as they went round to the back the sound of voices came fast enough to their ears. The owner and her manager were still talking in the back veranda, which was now in darkness, and their voices were still raised. It was Tom Chester's smile, however, that helped Engelhardt to grasp the full significance of the words that met their ears. Gilroy was speaking.