“What is it, sister mine? Has some one left us a fortune, or what? There’s something odd about you to-night—an air of—je ne sais quoi!”—with an expansive wave of his hand.
“‘I’m engaged to be married, sir, she said,’” remarked Ann demurely.
“Engaged? Great Scott! Who to?” Robin manifested all the unflattering amazement common to successive generations of brothers when confronted with the astounding fact that the apparently quite ordinary young woman whom they have hitherto regarded merely as a sisterly adjunct to life has suddenly become the pivot upon which some other man’s entire happiness will henceforth turn.
But afterwards, when he had had time to assimilate the unexpected news, he was ready to enter whole-heartedly into Ann’s happiness—just as throughout all their lives he had been always ready to share with her either happiness or pain, like the good comrade he was.
“I shall miss you abominably,” he declared. “In fact, I shall forbid the banns if Coventry wants to carry you off too soon.”
“You absurd person!” She laughed and kissed him. “Why, living at Heronsmere, I shall be able to look after you both. Little brother shan’t be neglected, I promise you!”
They sat over the fire talking till the grandfather’s clock in the corner struck twelve warning strokes. Robin knocked out the ashes of his pipe.
“We’d better be thinking of turning in, old thing,” he observed. “Even newly-engaged people require a modicum of sleep, I suppose”—smiling across at her.
“We’re not telling people we’re engaged, yet,” Ann. cautioned him.
Robin looked up.