When the men had seen the ladies home, they strolled up the garden to the Red House for a final smoke.
"Say, Graeme, I've been wondering what you'd have done if I'd played mule and persisted in kicking up my heels in church. I asked Miss Penny—and, by Jove, I tell you, that's about as sensible a girl as I've met for a long time—"
"Miss Penny is an extremely clever girl and an exceptionally fine character. Good family too. Her father was the Brigadier-General Penny who was killed in Afghanistan."
"So?"
"She's an M.A., and she's worked like a slave to educate her brothers and sisters, and they're all turning out well. I don't know any girl, except Meg, of whom I think so highly as Hennie Penny."
"Henrietta?"
Graeme nodded.
"Well now," said Pixley presently. "As a matter of information, what was in your mind to do if I'd gone on?"
"You'd never have got as far as the church, my boy."
"No? Why?"