Book Two—Chapter Eighteen.
The young Bainbridges were not slow in coming to a conclusion in regard to the condition of affairs between Hallam and their aunt. John pronounced Hallam as being “all right”; Mary thought him old. But then her aunt was rather old also; aunts are not girls. Mary viewed this mature romance with feminine curiosity. She thought it odd, but immensely interesting. She dogged their footsteps.
“I believe Mr Hallam is in love with Auntie,” she confided to John, who probably unaided would not have discovered this surprising fact.
“I wonder!” John said, and pondered the announcement. “I think I’ll ask him,” he added.
He took an early opportunity of doing so. He waylaid the pair, returning from their morning walk, and planted himself in front of Hallam, looking squarely up at him, with his hands in his pockets, in an attitude so reminiscent of his father as to move Esmé to merriment. Her laugh ended in a strangled gurgle when John spoke.
“Are you going to marry Auntie, Mr Hallam?” John asked with a directness that would have disconcerted most people, but at which Hallam only smiled.
“I am,” he answered. “I hope you don’t object?”
“No; that’s all right,” John said amiably. “I only wanted to know.”