"I liked that parlour. I have pleasant recollections of it," he answered. "I liked the low ceiling, and the oak panelled walls, and the queer old-fashioned furniture. Yes, I will come and have tea with you and Baba to-day, but first tell me all about everybody."
"You know Cicely has married Dr. Fergusson?"
"I saw it in a chance paper. I have heard no details. I have simply drifted over Europe, where my fancy, or the demon of unrest led me, and I let nobody know where I was. I know practically nothing. Why did Cicely marry the doctor? He is a thorough good fellow, but——"
"There isn't any 'but,'" Christina answered firmly. "Denis Fergusson is one of the very best men in the world, and Cicely has been radiant ever since—they were engaged. They were only married three weeks ago, and I wish you could have seen her face, when she walked down the church. You would not have said 'but' then!"
"Were her people annoyed?"
"A little, but only a little, and only at first. I think they recognised how completely the marriage was for Cicely's happiness. After all, Denis is a gentleman, an absolute and perfect gentleman, and a good man; and those two things are all that matter."
"Yes, those things are all that matter. It is only sheer worldliness that demands more. And if Cicely is happy, why—let worldliness go hang. Poor little Cicely certainly needed a man to take care of her, and Baba, and that big property; but—is Fergusson willing to give up his work?"
"Cicely won't hear of his giving it up. The surgery in South London is to go on as usual, and Cicely has insisted on having an assistant there, to do the work when Denis cannot go himself, so that, as she expresses it, she is not depriving a poor man of his living, in allowing a rich man to profit by the surgery and its practice."
"I confess to being a little surprised that Fergusson ever got himself up to the scratch of asking a rich woman to marry him," Rupert said, with some hesitation. "It doesn't seem—quite like the man."
"It wasn't in the least like the man," Christina answered demurely. "And—I'm afraid—I—made myself into a kind of—of matchmaker—or god in the machine, or something of that sort."