Grange stood till she was out of sight; then turned aside to the drawing-room, the smile wholly gone from his face.
Daisy, from her seat before the fire, looked up with her gay laugh. "I'm sure there is a secret brewing between you two," she declared. "I can feel it in my bones."
Grange closed the door carefully. There was a queer look on his face, almost an apprehensive look. He took up his stand on the hearthrug before he spoke.
"You are not far wrong, Daisy," he said then.
She answered him lightly as ever. "I never am, my dear Blake. Surely you must have noticed it. Well, am I to be let into the plot, or not?"
He looked at her for a moment uneasily. "Of course we shall tell you," he said. "It—it's not a thing we could very well keep to ourselves for any length of time."
A sudden gleam of understanding flashed into Daisy's upturned face, and instantly her expression changed. With a swift, vehement movement she sprang up and stood before him.
"Blake!" she exclaimed, and in her voice astonishment, dismay, and even reproach were mingled.
He averted his eyes from hers. "Won't you congratulate me, Daisy?" he said, speaking almost under his breath.
Daisy had turned very white. She put out both hands, and leaned upon the mantelpiece.