Gertrude Van Vleck sprang up in excitement.
“Do you mean it?” she cried. “O Harriet! don’t you understand? You are going with us. Am I not right, papa?”
Cornelius Van Vleck smiled benignantly.
“I have become your husband’s medical adviser,” he remarked, turning to Mrs. Percy-Bartlett, “and have ordered him to take a sea-voyage for his health.”
“And you have agreed?” asked Mrs. Percy-Bartlett of her husband, her voice cold, almost harsh, from the excitement that she restrained.
“If you wish,” he answered, seating himself wearily, and looking up at his wife with an affectionate gleam in his eyes.
“It is almost too good to be true,” cried Gertrude Van Vleck, trying to meet Harriet’s averted gaze. “I am so happy.”
“Is it not charming, Gertrude?” said Mrs. Percy-Bartlett, seating herself by her husband’s side and speaking with as much enthusiasm as she could summon to her aid. But she was not an actress, and to her husband and her confidante there seemed to be an unconvincing note in her voice, a suggestion that she was accepting the inevitable with a protest that vainly craved expression.