"Has Mr. Beaumont married Miss Romeyn?" at last he faltered.
"No; I reckon not," said Mr. Growther dryly.
"What do you mean?" asked Haldane sharply.
"Well, all I know is that he didn't marry her, and she ain't the kind of a girl to marry him, whether he would or no, and so they ain't married."
"The infernal scoundrel!" thundered Haldane, springing to his feet.
"The—"
"Hold on!" cried Mr. Growther. "O Lord a' massy! I half believe he's got to swearin' down in the war. If he's backslid agin, nothin' but my little, peaked-faced chap will ever bring him around a nuther time."
Haldane was stalking up and down the room in strong excitement and quite oblivious of Mr. Growther's perplexity.
"The unutterable fool!" he exclaimed, "to part from such a woman as
Laura Romeyn for any cause save death."
"Well, hang it all! if he's a fool that's his business. What on 'arth is the matter with you? I ain't used to havin' bombshells go off right under my nose as you be, and the way you are explodin' round kinder takes away my breath."
"Forgive me, my old friend; but I never had a shot strike quite as close as this. Poor girl! Poor girl! What a prospect she had a few months since. True enough, Beaumont was never a man to my taste; but a woman sees no faults in the man she loves; and he could have given her everything that her cultivated taste could wish for. Poor girl, she must be broken-hearted with all this trouble and disappointment."