He went into the Bethels' to call for Mary. Bethel appeared for a moment at the door of his study and shouted—
"Hullo! Harry, my boy! Frightfully busy cataloguing! Going out for a run in a minute!"—the door closed.
His daughter's engagement seemed to have made little difference to him. He was pleased, of course, but Harry wondered sometimes whether he realised it at all.
Not so Mrs. Bethel. Arrayed in gorgeous colours, she was blissfully happy. She was at the head of the stairs now.
"Just a minute, Harry—Mary's nearly ready. Oh! my dear, you haven't been out in that thin waistcoat ... but you'll catch your death—just a minute, my dear, and let me get something warmer? Oh do! Now you're an obstinate, bad man! Yes, a bad, bad man"—but at this moment arrived Mary, and they said good-bye and were away.
During the few weeks that they had been together there had been no cloud. Pendragon had talked, but they had not listened to it; they had been perfectly, ideally happy. They seemed to have known each other completely so long ago—not only their virtues but their faults and failures.
With her arm in his they passed through the gate and found Robin waiting for them.
"Hullo! you two! I've just heard from Macfadden. He suggests Catis in Dover Street for six months and then abroad. He thinks I ought to pass easily enough in a year's time—and then it will mean Germany!"
His face was lighted with excitement.
"Right you are!" cried Harry. "Anything that Macfadden suggests is sure to be pretty right. What do you say, Mary?"