The other man looked into Napier's eyes. And Napier laughed out. It was so patent that old Julian, newly enlightened as to the part love plays, had conceived the idea that his poor friend was the victim of a tenderness for Miss Greta.
Gavan caught in the toils of a woman like that!—the tragedy of it softened Julian. His face cleared. The motor was coming back with the others.
But the only others who were in the car were Madge, distinctly scowling, and Bobby, cheerful as usual. "Miss Greta's got a headache. Not coming!" the boy called out.
Julian was in the car as soon as they were out. "I'll go and get Miss Ellis."
"You can't. She won't leave 'her friend'!" said Madge, jerking her head away.
They didn't sail that day.
Julian haunted Kirklamont all the afternoon and evening. No sign of either lady.
"I shouldn't have thought she would be so obvious!" Julian burst out, as he and Napier sat smoking at the far end of the terrace. "To stick in bed all day just so as to prevent Nan—"
"What's the good? There's always to-morrow."