“Oh, what of that!” cried Mrs Leslie, with a fine scorn.
Two or three days passed, however, and nothing had occurred to justify her words. On the fourth, Fenwick and Miss Arbuthnot met at a dinner given at a commanding officer’s quarters. They did not exchange a word until the end of the evening, when the guests strolled out into the garden.
Pelham was not there, and if Fenwick had watched for an opportunity, he took it, as usual, boldly. He walked straight to Miss Arbuthnot.
“I must speak to you,” he said. “Alone.” She shrugged her shoulders, but made no objection. The night was hot, she wore a white dress, and round her throat had wrapped a scarf of a soft gauze, with silver threads running through it. In the moonlight these shimmered and flashed, and set off the rich brown of her hair. The regimental band was playing, otherwise it was strangely quiet for the neighbourhood of a camp. Presently they reached the limit of the turf, and Helen stopped.
“Well,” she asked abruptly, “what have you to say?”
“How can I say anything when you speak in such a tone?” he demanded. “There is a seat under that tree beyond.”
She walked on.
“Are you aware that we are affording much food for remarks?” she said presently. He took no notice of her question.
“I had to speak to you,” he began; “I want to be the first to tell you what has happened.”
“It was scarcely necessary,” she returned coldly. “After hearing that Miss Hamilton had departed, I could draw in the details myself. For that matter, I could have drawn them beforehand.”