"Well, he ought to know—something."
"He does—everything. But he won't tell—anything."
"Oh!"
"And it's right that he shouldn't, of course. It's his business to keep his mouth shut—and he knows his business as well as any man I can think of. Oh, he was perfectly civil, and apparently very gracious and open-hearted in what he said."
"He said that they had gone to South America on a big bridge contract, and that they wouldn't be home for four or five months yet. He said that they were very well, and that, probably, when they came back from this trip, they would go to South Africa for another six months. I couldn't get anywhere near asking about Helen, and Burke's present state of mind concerning her. He could scent a question of that sort forty words away; and he invariably veered off at a tangent long before I got to it. It was like starting for New York and landing in Montreal! I had to give it up. So far as anything I could learn to the contrary, Mr. Burke Denby and his father are well, happy, and perfectly content to build bridges for heathens and Hottentots the rest of their natural existence. And there you are! How, pray, in the face of that, are we going to keep Helen from running off to London?"
"I shouldn't try."
"But—oh, hang it all, Edith! This can't go on."
"Oh, yes, it can, my dear; and I'm inclined to think it's going on just right. Very plainly they aren't ready for each other—yet. Let her go to London and make the best of all these advantages for herself and Betty; and let him go on with his bridge-building for the Hottentots. 'Twill do them good—both of them, and will be all the better for them when they do come together."
"Oh, then they are to come together some time!"