Sir Harry was seized with an inspiration.
“Why don’t you change it?” he said abruptly. Then, before she could answer, he saw his opportunity, and hurried on: “They look round at the name Candover, you say. They wouldn’t if you were called—Archdale.”
Pamela tried to pretend she took this as a joke.
“Why do you laugh?” said he. “You’ll have to marry some day, you know! Why shouldn’t you be happy? Oh, you don’t know how soon you’d be able to forget, if you were!”
Pamela listened with her head bent, a feeling of deep gratitude and happiness stealing into her heart at the thought that this man, whom she had secretly liked so much, should come to her and generously offer to lift the great shadow off her life.
She shook her head, slowly, gently.
“There’s poor Babs!” she said softly.
“Oh, we’ll find a husband for Babs too! Babs is a dear girl!”
Pamela laughed, happily, tenderly this time.
“You seem to think,” she said meditatively, as she let him take up the end of the long white fox boa that encircled her throat, and wind it round his own hand caressingly, coming nearer as he did so, “that marriage is a panacea for all evils!”