“Good-night!” said Mr. Hungerford.
“You'll excuse us, John, I'm sure,” went on Serena. “Of course you and Gertie will want to talk, and,” with a slight pause and a glance at Percy, “we will only be in the way. Come, Daniel.”
Captain Dan paused in the doorway. “Ain't you tired, too, Cousin Percy?” he inquired.
It was a fairly broad hint, but Mr. Hungerford did not take it.
“Oh, no,” he replied; “not at all. Good-night, Captain.”
He seated himself on the sofa. Daniel, frowning, followed his wife upstairs.
The conversation which ensued was confined almost altogether to Hungerford and Gertrude. John Doane had little to say, and less opportunity to say it. Each remark made by the young lady was answered by Percy, and that gentleman talked almost incessantly. His remarks also were of a semi-confidential nature, dealing with happenings at various social affairs which Gertrude and he had attended, and hints at previous conversations and understandings between them. John began to feel himself an outsider. After a time he ceased trying to talk and relapsed into silence.
Gertrude noticed the silence and, seizing a moment when her entertaining cousin had paused, perhaps for breath, said, almost sharply:
“John, why don't you say something? You haven't spoken for five minutes.”
John said very little, even in reply to this accusation.