Joan felt that Nancy had garnered all that she had sown during her learning time, and often the thought made her lonely, detached her from them. She believed that Cameron's absence from the wedding covered a hurt that her loved ones hid from her.
"Yes, Joan," Doris replied very simply, "but—we feel now that it is best as it is."
"Why, Aunt Dorrie?"
"I cannot explain. When you meet Clive Cameron"—Joan winced—"you will understand."
"Did—did Clive Cameron—care?"
Doris laughed.
"No. It was quite comic, Joan, the whole proceeding. Mrs. Tweksbury, Uncle David, and I played matchmakers with a vengeance—but we bungled frightfully, and then Clive Cameron wedged his big body in between Nancy and several young men who might have made trouble, and—and—" Doris thought for an illuminating word. Then—"whistled Ken on!"
"Why, that's awfully funny, Aunt Dorrie—I rather imagined that Ken plunged!"
"No, he always felt attracted by Nancy—she was wonderfully attractive to men, Joan, but I honestly believe it was Clive who made Ken realize. Ken is the slow, sure sort; while Clive is rather devastating, you know. He doesn't waste time or energy—when he sees his way he goes! He is very like what his uncle was when I first knew him—only surer of himself." Doris's lips trembled.
"More bumptious, maybe!" Joan laughed. She was again in high spirits, though why she could hardly have told.