"I wonder if you truly realise the difficulty Edith will have in satisfying an incredulous world with her absolutely truthful story. She'll have to explain, you know. There's bound to be a sceptic or two, my dear Constance."
"But there's Roxbury," she protested, her face clouding nevertheless. "He will set everything right."
"The world will say he is a gullible fool," said he gently. "And the world always laughs at, not with, a fool. Alas, my dear sister, it's a very deep pool we're in." He leaned closer and allowed a quaint, half-bantering, wholly diffident smile to cross his face. "I—I'm afraid that you are the only being on earth who can make the story thoroughly plausible."
"I?" she demanded quickly. Their eyes met, and the wonder suddenly left hers. She blushed furiously. "Nonsense!" she said, and abruptly left him to take a seat beside Katherine Rodney. He found small comfort in the whisperings and titterings that came, willy-nilly, to his burning ears from the corner of the compartment. He had a disquieting impression that they were discussing him; it was forced in upon him that being a brother-in-law is not an enviable occupation.
"Wot?" he asked, almost fiercely, after the insistent Freddie had thrice repeated a question.
"I say, will you have a cigaret?" half shouted Freddie, exasperated.
"Oh! No, thanks. The train makes such a beastly racket, don't you know."
"They told me at the Bristol you were deaf, but—Oh, I say, old man, I'm sorry. Which ear is it?"
"The one next to you," replied Brock, recovering from his confusion. "I hear perfectly well with the other one."
"Yes," drawled Freddie, with a wink, "so I've observed." After a reflective silence the young man ventured the interesting conclusion, "She's a stunning girl, all right." Brock looked polite askance. "By Jove, I'm glad she isn't my sister-in-law."