"My dear Geoff, I—I really—I do congratulate you—both of you. I'm sure you'll be happy."
"You've completely floored me," cried Pallister gaily, recovering his breath. "I'm so surprised, you can come and knock me down with a feather if you want to. I'm sure I congratulate you heartily. Three cheers for Mr. and Mrs. Danvers! Hurrah! Can I be best man?"
But Evarne scarcely heard anything of this. She and Morris still stood separated by the length of half the room, gazing sternly into one another's eyes, each reading and sending forth defiance, antagonism, mutual hatred.
Yet when Winborough at length spoke it was in tones that were quite light and casual.
"If marriage wasn't such a confounded knot to untie, there would not be the same need for careful consideration beforehand that undoubtedly there is now—more's the pity! When you do marry, Geoff, I wish you every happiness—that you know."
Evarne returned to the throne and sat down again. Having averted the danger of Morris speaking out on impulse at first hearing Geoff's announcement, she felt herself safe for the minute. He would indeed be strangely altered if he now suddenly burst forth into accusations, making a scene in the presence of Jack and Pallister, and running the risk of ensuring public talk and scandal. Besides, she still retained sufficient faith in his honour to believe that he would not deliberately give away her secret to men whom it did not concern.
But before long her apprehensions were again up in arms.
"You are inhospitable here," announced his lordship. "Do artistic aspirations do away with parched throats, even on sultry July afternoons? If so, that's rather an important point for temperance advocates. For my part, fancying I remember where you keep your whisky and syphons, Geoff, I'm going to see if I can look after myself, eh?"
With the utmost nonchalance he strolled out of the studio. As Winborough had anticipated, Geoffrey promptly followed him.
As soon as they were alone in the sitting-room, Winborough rounded on the young man sharply.