"A bit sudden—eh, young lady?" enquired that gentleman at last. "I ought to have written, I suppose. But I quite forgot you would all think I was dead. Never mind—I'm not!"
He blew his nose resonantly to substantiate his statement.
Joan, satisfied at last that he was real, and greatly relieved to find that she was not suffering from hysterical delusions arising from Hughie's brutal treatment of her, enquired severely of the truant where he had been for the last five years.
Jimmy Marrable told her. It was a long story, and the shadow of the copper beech had perceptibly lengthened by the time the narrator had embarked at Zanzibar for the port of Leith. They had the garden to themselves, for the Leroys were out.
"I don't want to hear any more adventures, because I'm simply bursting with questions," said Miss Gaymer frankly. "First of all, why did you go away? You rushed off in such a hurry that you had no time to explain. I was barely eighteen then."
"It was the old failing—the Marrable wandering tendency," replied her uncle. "I had kept it at bay quite easily for close on fifteen years, but it came back very hard and suddenly about that time."
"Why?"
"Partly, I think, because the only thing that had kept me at home all those years seemed to be slipping away from me."
"I wasn't!" declared Miss Gaymer stoutly. Then she reflected. "Do you mean—all those silly boys? Was it them?"
"It was," said Jimmy Marrable. "They not only put my nose out of joint but they bored me to tears."