‘Don’t be too sure,’ returned Miss Marjory, with a very wise, not to say mysterious, look. ‘I have a faculty for managing anything I have once set my mind upon, which may surprise you one of these days, as it has surprised wiser people before you.’
‘You are very like a sphinx, Miss Marjory. Please condescend to tell me some more, and that more plainly.’
‘Well, if you must know, it would not much surprise me, if, when Mr. Torwood turns up, you found him almost as much of a paragon as your pattern and idol, Phil.’
‘Mr. Torwood! Oh, Miss Marjory, do you know him? What is he like? and when is he coming?’
‘What a number of questions at once! You are as bad as I am, Maud. I don’t know when he is coming back, because nobody can tell when he will be well again; but I do know something about him; and his father was a very old friend of mine. I believe he takes after his father, from all I hear; and if so, my advice to you, my dear, is this: don’t engage yourself to Lewis Belassis until you have seen Torrington Torwood.’
Maud looked hard at Miss Marjory, half smiling, half perplexed.
‘I don’t quite understand you—you seem in a dreadfully match-making frame of mind. But Phil thinks so very much of your opinion, that he has made me do the same. I will take your advice, Miss Marjory.’
