“But you are an hour late.”
“I called on Colonel Marchant. It never occurred to me that you could be uneasy on my account, or I should not have stopped on the way. I am very sorry, my dear Maud,” he concluded, as he kissed her in the hall.
“You are not cured of your infatuation, Jack.”
“Not cured, or likely to be cured, in your way. I have heard nothing but your praises, Maud. You seem to have been a fairy godmother to those motherless girls.”
“Have I not? How did you like their appearance? Did you see any improvement?”
“A monstrous improvement. They were all neatly dressed, and in one colour.”
“That was my doing, Jack.”
“Really! But how did you manage it, without wounding their feelings?”
“My tact, Jack, my exquisite tact,” cried Maud, gaily.
They were in her morning-room by this time, and Vansittart sank into a low armchair, prepared to hear all she had to tell. Maud had generally a great deal to say to her brother after an interval of severance.