PREPARATIONS
Pyne found Enid rosy-red and inclined to be tearful. The dying light of day was still strong enough in the service-room to permit these things to be seen.
"No bad news, I hope?" he inquired, though the sight of Stephen Brand, seated at his desk and placidly writing, was reassuring.
The question steadied her to an extent.
"It is nothing of any consequence," she said and darted past him.
Brand looked up from his journal. He smiled, though the American thought there was a hint of pain in his eyes.
"I am going to lose one of my girls," he said. "Oh, no, this is not a loss by death but by marriage. If I were a Frenchman, I would describe it as gaining a son. Enid has just received what is tantamount to a proposal."
"By flag-wagging?" Pyne was naturally astounded.
"Yes. You would not expect one of the people from the Chinook to be so enterprising."
"I—don't—know," said Pyne, punctuating each word with a deliberate nod.