"Look!" said I and nodded where Barbara sat, her pale check pillowed on Diana's bosom.
"Anthony!" she called softly. And then he was beside her on his knees, his head down-bent, her arm about his neck.
"Perry!" he called suddenly. "Come here, man, come here! Sure you haven't forgot the angel who stooped to a miserable dog, who trusted a desperate-seeming rogue and lifted him back to manhood and self-respect—you remember my Barbara? And you, dearest, recall my friend Peregrine—the gentle, immaculate youth who was willing to trust and bestow his friendship upon the same miserable dog and desperate rogue—aye, and fed him into the bargain—"
"How should I ever forget?" said Barbara. "Indeed, Mr. Vereker, we have talked of you often—though always as 'Peregrine'—"
"Mrs. Vere-Manville," I began.
"It was Barbara at the 'Jolly Waggoner'!" she reminded me, smiling and nestling closer into her husband's encircling arm.
"Barbara—Anthony," said I, "it is my happy privilege to introduce
Diana—Miss Lovel—who is to honour me by becoming my wife shortly—"
Anthony bowed to Diana, laughed, and drew his wife a little closer all in the same moment, it seemed; then Barbara turned to look into the vivid, dark beauty of Diana's down-bent face where she knelt, and for a long moment eyes of blue stared up into eyes of grey, a long, questioning look.
"May I kiss you?" said Barbara at last.
Swiftly, almost eagerly, Diana leaned forward, then hesitated, drew away, and glanced swiftly upon each of us in turn with a troubled look.