The Major was here afflicted with a violent cough, which kept him barking hoarsely for some minutes.
“Dear me!” said Miss Letty, solicitously watching him as he got redder and redder in the face and kept on coughing. “I am afraid you have caught cold, Dick! Did you have your overcoat on when you came just now?”
“Yes, I had everything on,” said the Major, still struggling with the strange obstruction in his throat. “Everything that was necessary.” Here he suddenly recovered himself and relapsed into calm. “When do you think Violet will be back?”
“She cannot be later than eleven or half-past,” replied Miss Letty. “But we must be very careful. She may not have seen the news as yet.”
“I am afraid there is no hope of that,” said Desmond bitterly. “It is all over the place. You know what these wretched papers are,—anything to sell their copies. A scandal is treated to the biggest headlines, just as the dress of a stage woman gets more notice than the death of a great man. Oh, she’s seen it, you may be sure!”
Miss Letty clasped and unclasped her hands nervously.
“We must be brave, Dick,” she murmured. “We must not let her see us break down—we must not pity her too much.”
“Pity her!” ejaculated the Major. “I feel more like congratulating her on a narrow escape from getting a bad husband. Only it won’t do to put it that way. She might think it unkind——”
“Hush!” said Miss Letty, lifting a warning finger and growing very pale, as the wheels of a carriage came to a stop outside. “There she is!”
The Major held his breath, listening. Violet’s clear young voice could be heard distinctly saying—“Good-night! Thanks for a delightful evening.”