“I dare say it was Anne’s fault. She is astonishingly wilful.”
“I thought I had made it clear that the mistake was all my own. You must be well aware that Miss Dalrymple had the right to be excessively annoyed.”
Mrs Martyn smiled.
“Anne would not trouble herself about talk, if that is what you mean. She has proved herself absolutely indifferent. She will do the same here.”
Spite of himself, he looked up eagerly.
“Yes. Of course I speak of young Forbes. Her friends will not thank me when they hear that I have allowed him to tack himself on to us.”
The traitor in Wareham mentally blessed these friends, though his better instincts forced him to say—
“Why? Hugh is an only son, his father a baronet, and he what the world calls a good match.”
Mrs Martyn turned her large fair face towards him, and raised her eyebrows.
“Middling. No objection was made when Anne said she would marry him. But she let matters go too far, even for her, this time, and naturally they won’t be pleased to have it all over again. Mr Forbes says you telegraphed to him. I wish you had left it alone.”