Daphne flushed under the sharp gaze.
"No," she said hastily; "Uncle Jim's."
"I didn't know you had an Uncle Jim."
"Oh, yes; Papa's younger brother."
Drusilla laughed.
"Well, if he is like your father I should think he could manage his own love affairs."
"He is and he can't. He's just like father, only worse. He's so sort of stiff and cold that he freezes people; but he can't help it. He's been engaged to the nicest girl—Mary Deane. You know she lives in the big house on the Denham road. She's the dearest girl, and I adore her, although she's much older than I am. Oh, she's very old—she must be thirty. Uncle Jim and she were to be married, and then all at once she broke the engagement and went to Egypt. Uncle Jim would never say why it was, and I didn't know until she came back last week, when I found out all about it. She cried when she told me. She said he wasn't human; that she couldn't pass her life with him, he's always so cold and correct. She says he never unbends, sort of stands up straight even when he kisses her. Yet I know she loves him; and Uncle Jim hasn't been the same man at all since the engagement was broken."
"What are you going to do about it? You can't make him over."
"I know it; but if they'd only meet he might be different. She won't come to our house for fear she'll meet him, and he is too proud to go and see her. And I know they are just breaking their hearts for each other."
She was quiet for a moment.