He started—started at the sound of the name that was forever in his thoughts.
“Yes, dear,” he said simply, for why should he lie to this child?
“Oh!” she said. “Oh, and—and Hugh, she and you—” She paused, she held her face down that he might not see it.
“Joan Meredyth,” he said slowly, “and I met in Town a few days ago. She told me then, that she is engaged to be married.”
“Oh!” Marjorie said, and her heart leaped with a new-born hope.
“And I,” Hugh went on, “am worried and anxious about her.”
“Hugh!”
“I can’t worry you, little girl. It is nothing in which you could help; it is my fault, my folly!”
“Mine!” she said.
“No, it is mine. The whole idea was mine; I shoulder the blame of it all. It has succeeded in what we attempted. You are all right, you and Tom. I’ve made a lovely mess of everything else. But that does not matter so much. What we wanted, we won, eh?” He smiled at her, little dreaming that she had only won dead-sea fruit.