The tone was indifferent, but had she not risen quickly to shake some threads of embroidery linen into the scrap-basket beneath the library table, Octavius might have seen the quick blood mount into her cheeks, the red lips quiver. It was welcome news for which she had been waiting already six weeks.
Octavius spoke again but in a low voice:
"You might mention it to Mrs. Champney when she comes down; it don't set well, you know, if she ain't told everything that's going on." He passed on without waiting for an answer.
The girl took her seat again by the window. Her work lay in her lap; her hands were folded above it; her face was turned to the Flamsted Hills. "Would he come soon? When and where could she see him again, and alone?" Her thoughts were busy with conjecture.
Octavius recrossing the terrace called out to her:
"You going up to Mrs. Caukins' later on this afternoon?"
"Yes; Mrs. Champney said she didn't need me."
"I'll take you up."
"Thank you, Tave, not to-day. I'm going to row up as far as the upper shed. I promised the twins to meet them there; they want to see the new travelling crane at work. We'll go up afterwards to The Gore together."
"It's pretty hot, but I guess you're all three seasoned by this time."