But Joan had said that to take the ring would be as good as to be engaged, and that therefore she would not take it, but that he could keep it ready for the day of their betrothal.
She had come home, through the lovely evening, in such a state of happiness that she was forced to tell Mrs. Combermere all about it, and Mrs. Combermere had been a darling and assured her that she was quite right in all that she had done, and that it made her, Mrs. Combermere, feel quite young again, and that she would help them in every way that she could, and parting at the Arden Gate, she had kissed Joan just as though she were her very own daughter.
So Joan, shining with happiness, came back to the house. It seemed very quiet after the sun and glitter and laughter of the Flower Show. She went straight up to her room at the top of the house, washed her face and hands, brushed her hair and put on her white frock.
As she came downstairs the clock struck half-past seven. In the hall she met Gladys.
"Please, miss," said Gladys, "is dinner to be kept back?"
"Why," said Joan, "isn't mother in?"
"No, miss, she went out about six o'clock and she hasn't come in."
"Isn't father in?"
"No, miss."
"Did she say that she'd be late?"