He nodded.
"But she hardly knows him! You told me yourself that she had only seen him three or four times."
"True, but you must remember that they met under very romantic conditions. And Cyril is the sort of chap who would be likely to appeal to a girl's imagination."
"Lady Wilmersley in love! I can't believe it!" exclaimed Miss Trevor.
"I wish I didn't," muttered Guy under his breath.
She heard him, however, and laid her small, wrinkled hand tenderly on his shoulder.
"My poor boy, I guessed your trouble long ago."
"Don't pity me! It doesn't hurt any longer—not much at least. When one realises a thing is quite hopeless, one somehow ends by adjusting oneself to the inevitable. What I feel for her now is more worship than love. I want above all things that she should be happy, and if Cyril can make her so, I would gladly speed his wooing."
"Do you think he has any thought of her?"
"I am sure he loves her."