"Then you will have to take the statement for your answer, my dear old thickhead. Olive loves me, the angel that she is."
"She ran away from you."
"I know she did, but she loves me."
"She was in a pelting rage; I saw her face."
"I know she was, but she loves me."
"Oh, come home," growled Aldean, putting his arm within that of his enigmatic friend. "You're a human cuckoo."
Mallow laughed, and went back to Kingsholme with an excellent appetite, which went to prove that he was no lover out of a sickly romance. For the next two or three days he made no attempt to see Olive, but lived on the memory of her self-betrayal. In spite of Jim's insidious hints that the pleasantest walks tended towards the Manor House, Laurence kept away. With his host he rode and drove and played golf. He spun over the country on his Humber, and fought Jim valiantly in singles on the tennis-lawn.
Then the news came that Angus Carson and his friend Major Semberry had arrived, and were in possession of the garden of flowers, and presumably of the nymphs who haunted it. Mallow's spirits suddenly went down to zero, and, in a moping mood, he worried Aldean for two whole days. On the third he resolved to meet his rival face to face; so, taking advantage of Aldean's absence at Reading, he walked over to the Manor House, and was duly shown into the drawing-room.
Remembering their last meeting, Olive blushed as she gave Mallow her hand. Then, to cover her confusion, she presented Mallow to a tall, slender young man in a grey tweed suit, with his right hand in a black silk sling.
"Mr. Mallow, this is Mr. Carson."