A Tale that is Told.
It was just such a visit that Mrs Barclay paid Claire Denville about a fortnight later; and after one of her extremely warm embraces, she exclaimed: “Guess.”
“Guess what, Mrs Barclay?”
“Who’s married. There, you needn’t blush, my dear, because yours is fixed all right at last, but you’ll never guess who.”
“Then tell me,” said Claire, smiling. “No, guess.”
“I cannot. There are so many.”
“Then I will tell you. No, no: you’re too late,” she cried, as Richard Linnell hurriedly entered; “I’ve brought the news.”
“You’ve told her then that Cora Dean is married?”
“Now what a shame, Mr Richard,” cried Mrs Barclay. “I hadn’t time to say it, but I was just going to tell her. But she doesn’t know who to, and I will tell her that. Colonel Mellersh, my dear.”
“Colonel Mellersh!” cried Claire.