“Not much,” Cyril replied with a careless laugh. “When I got off the train at the settlement, everybody stared at me, and there were anxious inquiries as to where I’d been. I promised to tell them about it another time, and at the livery-stable Kevan said something about my being killed. I told him it didn’t look like it; and as the boys seemed determined on hearing my adventures; I rode off smartly. When I reached your place, Svendsen looked scared, and all I could get out of him was that you were here.”
Prescott made a gesture of comprehension. It was typical of Cyril that he had not taken the trouble to find out the cause of the excitement his appearance had aroused.
“Who is the lady?” Cyril asked.
“Miss Hurst. You had, perhaps, better know that she has promised to marry me.”
Cyril looked at him in frank astonishment, and then laughed.
“I suppose my surprise isn’t complimentary, but I wasn’t prepared for your news. Jack, you’re rather wonderful, but you have my best wishes, and you can tell me what brought Miss Hurst back by and by. No doubt she expects me to speak to her.”
“Thanks,” said Prescott dryly. “Whatever my capabilities of making a sensation are, they’re a long way behind yours.”
They walked toward the girl and Prescott led up his companion.
“Muriel,” he said, “Cyril Jernyngham wishes to be presented to you.”
She gave him her hand, and he realized that she was studying him carefully.