“The house is an English house, and although Jasper Carson sometimes speculates in Canada, he has nothing to do with the bridge. When I admitted he was my uncle, Wheeler seemed to think it a joke. So far, I don’t see the joke——”
He stopped and smiled, a crooked smile, for he had boasted to Mrs. Haigh and Alan about his progress, and had seen himself conquering. All the same, he must not force Bob to pay for his triumph. In fact, he must not be a shabby hound.
“You mustn’t bother,” he went on. “I expect the idea was Wheeler’s, and the head bosses would not approve his giving me control. Anyhow, I’ll refuse, and I rather think Wheeler’s going to get a jolt.”
Mrs. Austin got up and put her hand impulsively on his arm.
“You are fine, Kit, and I’m horribly selfish! I felt I must fight for my husband, but I’d hate you to think he agreed.”
“Now you’re ridiculous! I can’t picture Bob’s agreeing, and when you hustled him off he was puzzled.”
“There’s another thing,” said Mrs. Austin. “Had you and Bob competed evenly for the post I should not have meddled. But it was not like that. You were his helper and the post was really his”—she pressed Kit’s arm and gave him an apologetic glance—“you see it, don’t you, Kit?”
Kit saw something else. The door was open and Alison came in.
“Florence is sorry she cannot get away——” she said and stopped.
Kit was very quiet. Mrs. Austin’s hand was on his arm and he wanted to step back, but she did not move and he knew he must not. Alison studied him rather scornfully and the blood came to her skin. Then Mrs. Austin laughed.