For a time his own and Calderwell's affairs occupied their attention; then, after a short pause, the tenor asked abruptly:
“Is there anything—wrong with the Henshaws, Calderwell?”
Calderwell came suddenly erect in his chair.
“Thank you! I hoped you'd introduce that subject; though, for that matter, if you hadn't, I should. Yes, there is—and I'm looking to you, old man, to get them out of it.”
“I?” Arkwright sat erect now.
“Yes.”
“What do you mean?”
“In a way, the expected has happened—though I know now that I didn't really expect it to happen, in spite of my prophecies. You may remember I was always skeptical on the subject of Bertram's settling down to a domestic hearthstone. I insisted 'twould be the turn of a girl's head and the curve of her cheek that he wanted to paint.”
Arkwright looked up with a quick frown.
“You don't mean that Henshaw has been cad enough to find another—”