“Yes, Miss Jerrold asked me,” said Guest, rather consciously; “and of course he would have known afterward, and reproached me for not telling him. What is to be done?”
“Certainly not thwart him,” replied Brettison. “I was going out into the country to-day.”
“Collecting?”
“Yes, my dear sir, a little. My great hobby, Mr Guest. But I will not go. We should do more harm than good by stopping him, so I’ll go to the church with him.”
“But I dread a scene,” said Guest. “Suppose he should turn wild at seeing her lead up the aisle. Fancy the consequences. It would be cruel to the lady. It is not as if she had jilted him.”
“Never cared for him a bit, did she?” whispered Brettison.
“H’m! Well, sir, I don’t quite like to say. At all events, Miss Myra Jerrold accepted this Mr Barron before poor old Malcolm spoke a word, and I am convinced that she felt certain he did not care for her.”
“An unfortunate business, Guest. Poor lad! poor lad! But there, he recovered, and any opposition would, I am sure, throw him back.”
“But the lady?”
“Have no fear; Malcolm Stratton will, I am sure, be guilty of no insane folly. I know him better than you, Guest.”