"Very well." Chloe rose from the breakfast-table as she spoke, and sauntered to the window, from whence she looked over the pretty garden with appreciative eyes. "It is lucky the weather is so beautiful—Greengates will look at its best on a day like this."
And Bruce agreed heartily as he stepped on to the lawn to enjoy his after-breakfast pipe.
True to his promise Bruce motored his fiancée over to Cherry Orchard in the gloaming of the September evening, after a somewhat protracted argument with Lady Laura, whose sense of propriety was, so she averred, outraged by the project.
Sir Richard, however, to whom the loss of his only daughter was a deep though hidden grief, gave his consent readily enough when he saw that Iris really wished to bid her friend good-bye; and making Bruce promise to bring her back in good time he himself went to the door to pack them safely into the motor.
"Take care of her, Bruce—she is very precious to me!" He laid his hand on the young man's arm, and his voice held an appeal which Bruce involuntarily answered.
"Trust me, sir!" There was a note of rather unusual feeling in his tone. "She can't be more precious to you than she is to me!"
And with the words he got his car in motion and glided away down the dusky, scented avenue beneath the tall trees which had not, as yet, put off their summer tints for their autumn livery of scarlet and gold.
Somehow they did not talk much as they sped on through the cool, perfumed night. Both, indeed, felt a sense of shyness in each other's company on this last evening; and it was with something like relief that they realized they were at Cherry Orchard in less time than they generally allowed for the little journey.
The hall door, as usual, stood hospitably open; but there was no sign of Chloe, waiting for them with her gracious welcome; and as they crossed the threshold both felt instinctively that something was wrong.