The day was bright, and a promise of spring was in the air as he journeyed down. Some of its brightness seemed to tinge his mood, and he was conscious of a vague wonder at the pleasurable emotions that stirred him as fields and hedgerows shot past.
She was on the platform awaiting him, though he had not telegraphed the time of his arrival. He saw her at once, and was momentarily a prey to misgivings. Her welcoming smile as they advanced towards each other dissipated his dread. But it revived his embarrassment, and his embarrassment appeared to her pitiable.
"I knew," she said frankly, "that you would come by this train."
She gave orders to a porter about the luggage, and Kent passed into Monmouth by her side. He heard that her brother had come down to see her, and was at the cottage now. Cæsar was having a holiday, and had been spending a fortnight with his parents.
"He was going back this evening, but I made him stay till to-morrow. Mrs. Evans found him a room a few doors off."
He understood that it was to lessen the awkwardness of the first evening for him that she had detained her brother, and he was grateful to her.
"You must know the place well by now?" he said, looking about him.
"Every inch, I think. It's so pretty. I'm sorry it isn't summer; you'd see. We have a lot of artists then. I got rather chummy with two girls painting here in the autumn; we used to go to tea at each other's lodgings. I learnt a lot.... That's our house—the one at the corner. There's Mrs. Evans at the gate. She calls you 'the master.' She hopes the master will find her cooking good enough for him. For tea she's made some hot cakes specially in your honour."
As they drew nearer, a nurse approached wheeling a child. He heard that it was "Humphrey," and bent over the little fellow timidly. Cynthia hung about them, praying that the boy would not cry. She asked him who the gentleman was, and, having been repeatedly told that "papa was coming," he answered "Papa!" Whereat she triumphed and the man was pleased.
In the parlour, which struck Kent agreeably with its quiet, old-fashioned air, the Right Hand of McCullough was perusing a financial paper. He put it aside to greet Kent cordially. His presence dominated the evening, and, in the knowledge that he was departing early next day, Kent even found him amusing, though to be amusing was not his aim. Ostensibly he had come to England on a financial mission, and his vague allusions to it were weighted by several names of European importance. Occasionally his attention wandered and he lapsed into a brown study, obviously preoccupied by millions. For this he apologised, in case it had been unnoticed, and rallied Cynthia on the "yellow-backs" that were visible on the bookshelf.