“Father and Mr. Holway were renewing acquaintanceship,” she observed, cheerfully. “It seems that they have met before.”
Cousin Percy's acknowledgment of this statement was a brief “Oh, indeed!” He and his friend exchanged glances.
“The—er—performance is about to begin, I believe,” announced Mr. Hungerford. “Our hostess has—er—reluctantly consented to be led to the piano. Shall you and I adjourn to the next room, Cousin?”
Gertrude shook her head.
“Oh, thank you,” she said, “but Mr. Holway has been telling me the most interesting stories about Scarford and the people in it, and I want to hear the rest. He is dreadfully sarcastic; I should not listen, I know, but I want to. Come, Mr. Holway.”
She moved away, the flattered “Monty” in her wake. Mr. Hungerford gazed after them. He appeared not altogether pleased.
“Very sociable, chatty chap, that friend of yours, I should judge,” observed Captain Dan drily.
“Um-hm!” grunted Cousin Percy. “Been chatting to you, has he?”
“No-o, not much this time. But you remember I've had the pleasure before.”
Mr. Hungerford doubtless remembered; he looked as if he did. Then he, too, strolled away. The captain, left alone, indulged in a quiet chuckle.