“Sir Mark!”
“Oh, uncle!”
“Don’t talk stuff, Mark,” cried his sister almost at the same moment. “Is it likely? Then it is all true. What an escape! Well, I’m glad it happened when it did.”
Sir Mark gave a furious stamp on the floor, but turned calmly enough on Guest offering his hand.
“You will excuse me now, Sir Mark.”
“Eh? What? Going? Well, if you must. But don’t leave me in the lurch, my lad. Come back and have a bit of dinner with me. I shall be very dull. No; I won’t ask you here. It will be miserable. Meet me at the club.”
Guest promised, and then shook hands with Miss Jerrold, who pressed his fingers warmly; but when he turned to say good-bye to Edie she was not in the room.
“Too upset,” he muttered as he went down. “Might have said good-bye, though.”
“Good-bye, Mr Guest,” came from the little conservatory half-way down to the hall; and there was Edie waiting. “No, no; don’t stop me. I must run up to Myra. Good-bye, Percy. Oh, I am so glad.”
“Good-bye, Percy—good-bye, Percy,” Guest kept on saying to himself as he walked slowly along one side of the square. “Percy, for the first time. Good Heavens, Mal!” he cried, starting as a hand was thrust under his arm—“you? I was coming on. I’ve something particular to tell you.”