“Alas, no,” he answered meaningly; “I’m not the lucky man.”
“Ah!” said Hilda, “I was sure of it all the time!”
“Colin!” exclaimed Kitty before she could prevent it, and blushed adorably.
Colin turned inquiringly from his talk with West. “Yes, dearest,” he said quite naturally, and then blushed also.
There was an interesting silence till the young man stammered: “By the way, hasn’t Kitty told you we were engaged?”
“Well,” remarked Hilda, when the congratulations were over, “I must say I never thought of Mr. Symington as a match-maker!”
CHAPTER XXVII
It would seem that Rachel Corrie had forgotten her own weakness in her brother’s collapse. He had risen as usual, but it was evident that he was totally unfit for the business of the day. Crouched in his chair by the kitchen fire he presented a sad spectacle of human misery and shame. It was after nine, and Rachel was endeavouring to persuade him to eat some breakfast.
With scarcely any warning Symington, coming from the shop, was upon them. His face was like chalk, his eyes were congested.
“Corrie,” he cried hoarsely, “I give you three minutes to produce my Zenith certificates!”