“Yes—it is not announced yet, but I want you to know it. You will tell no one, of course. I am going to be married.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Constance, with a slight start.
“Yes. I am sure you will be glad to hear it. I am engaged to be married to my cousin, Mamie Trimm.”
Constance was looking so ill, already, that it could not be said that she turned pale at the announcement. She walked quietly on, gazing before her steadily at some distant object.
“It is rather sudden, I suppose,” said George in a tone that sounded unpleasantly apologetic in his own ears.
“Rather,” Constance answered with an effort. “I confess that I am astonished. You have my best congratulations.”
She paused, and reflected that her words were very cold. She felt an odd chill in herself as well as in her language, and tried to shake it off.
“If you are happy, I am very glad,” she said. “It was not what I expected, but I am very glad.”
“Thanks. But, Constance, what did you expect—something very different? Why?”
“Nothing—nothing—it is very natural, of course. When are you to be married?” All the coldness had returned to her voice as she put the question.