“But how—but why—but what—what makes you think so?” stammered I.
“His action when he first saw her—when she and t entered the room where he was, to greet him, this forenoon.”
“Oh, it is impossible—impossible!” I repeated, helplessly. “What was his action? What did he do?”
“He caught his breath, he started, he coloured up, and then turned white, and then red again.”
“Merciful Heavens!” I gasped, panic-stricken.
“What shall we do? What can we do?” my poor sister groaned.
“Did—did Miriam notice his embarrassment?”
“I think not. She did not appear to, anyhow.”
There befell a pause, during which I tried to collect my wits, and to reflect upon the situation.
“Well,” persisted Josephine, after the silence had continued for a minute or two, “what shall we do?”