"God bless my soul! Why, the Ilberts are connected with half the peerage. We Drummonds are only country squires beside them. Such a handsome fellow too, and with such a reputation! Why should she refuse Ilbert? Is the girl mad?"
"Robin was first in the field. But I happen to know that Mary refused Mr. Ilbert while yet Robin and I were engaged. What do you think of that?"
"Madder and madder. I don't understand women, Nell. Such a fellow as Ilbert! Why, he might marry anybody. We must make it easy for them with the Dowager, Nell—as easy as we can. We owe a good deal to Miss Gray."
"Oh, she'll come round—she'll have to come round."
"Do you suppose they understand each other, Nell?"
"I don't think Robin has spoken. He seems to be waiting for something. I have only noticed the last day or two. Before that I was absorbed in my troubles—such a selfish daughter, papa."
"My darling, we have all felt with you. It is so good to see you more yourself, Nell."
"Ah!" She turned away her head. "I have a feeling—there is no reason for it at all—that good news is coming. I felt it when I awoke this morning."
Meanwhile Robin Drummond and Mary had the Square almost to themselves, except for a gardener or two. All around the Square were shuttered and silent houses. It was the most torrid of early August days, and presently the heat drove them to a sheltered seat beneath a tree. In the mist of heat around them the bedding-plants, the scarlet geraniums, the lobelia and beet, made a vivid glare. Only in the forest trees, too dense for the dust to penetrate, were there shadow and relief.
They were talking of Nelly.