The news of the broken engagement had by that time spread through the house, and was received by the several members of the party with varying degrees of interest and emotion. Mottisfont said that he did not blame the girl; Roydon, who, in spite of writing grimly realistic plays, was a romantic at heart, was inclined to deplore such disloyalty in one so lovely; Paula said indifferently that she had never expected the engagement to come to anything; Maud greeted the tidings with apathy; Mathilda warmly congratulated Stephen; and Joseph, rising as usual to the occasion, insisted on regarding his nephew as one whose brave spirit had been shattered by treachery. When he encountered Stephen, he went towards him, and clasped one of his hands before Stephen could frustrate him, and said in a voice deepened by emotion: "My boy, what can I say to you?"
Stephen rightly understood the question to be rhetorical, and made no reply; and after squeezing his hand in a very feeling way, Joseph said: "She was never worthy of you! Nothing one can say can bring you comfort now, my poor boy, but you will find, as so many, many of us have found before you, that Time proves itself a great healer."
"Thanks very much," said Stephen, "but you are wasting your sympathy. In your own parlance, Valerie and I are agreed that we were never suited to one another."
If he entertained any hope of thus quelling Joseph's embarrassing partisanship he was speedily disillusioned, for Joseph at once smote him lightly on the shoulder, saying: "Ah, that's the way to take it, old man! Chin up!"
Mathilda, who was a witness of this scene, feared that Stephen would either be sick or fell his uncle to the ground, so she hastily intervened, saying that she thought both parties ought to be congratulated on their escape.
Joseph was quite equal to dealing with Mathilda. He smiled at her, and said gently: 'Ah, Tilda, there speaks one who has not known what it is to suffer!"
"Oh, do for God's sake put a sock in it!" said Stephen, in a sudden explosion of wrath.
Joseph was not in the least offended. "I know, old chap, I know!" he said. "One cannot bear to have one's wounds touched. Well! We must forget that there ever was a Valerie, and turn our faces to the morrow."
"As far as I am concerned," said Stephen, "the morrow will probably see my arrest on a charge of murder."
Mathilda found herself quite unable to speak, so horrible was it to hear her unexpressed fear put crudely into words. Joseph, however, said: "Hush, my boy! You are overwrought, and no wonder! We are not even going to consider such a frightful possibility."