“Of course not. Yes; you are right: they will be back in about a week.”
“In a week?” cried Guest joyously.
“Yes. I wanted to see you, though. How about your friend, Mr Stratton: he has forgotten all that mad nonsense, I suppose?”
Guest was silent for a few moments while the old lady looked at him inquiringly.
“You do not know Malcolm Stratton as I do,” he said sadly. “He has never mentioned Miss Myra Jerrold’s name—”
“Mrs Dale’s or Barron’s,” said the lady sternly, but Guest shook his head.
“Since the wedding day, but if I know anything of my friend she has never since been out of his thoughts.”
The tears started to Miss Jerrold’s eyes.
“Poor boy,” she said sadly. “But he must not think of her. My brother had certain thoughts about getting the marriage cancelled, but Myra will not hear of it.”
“Surely she does not care for this man?”