“Jinny,” he said at last, so abruptly that she started and looked around. He caught her eye, winced, and plunged in. “Mr. Carter was here just now.”
“Yes?” Virginia listened expectantly, a little flush on her cheeks.
The colonel wiped his forehead. “It’s a hot day!” he observed. Then, casually: “Yes; he’s heard from his son. He’s coming home with——”
“Yes?” Virginia drew her breath quietly, averting her eyes. “Soon, grandpa?”
The colonel choked. He had to go to the table and drain a glass of water. “Yes. He—he’s made a darned fool of himself, Jinny, he’s—he’s married.”
“I know,” Virginia rejoined in a low voice. “I just read it in the newspaper.”
The colonel, looking into the bottom of his tumbler, was aware that the bees had got into the honeysuckle. They sounded like a full brass band in his ears. He could not stand it any longer, he looked sideways at Virginia. She was still sitting on the old stone bench, her roses in her lap. She wasn’t looking at him and he could see her profile. It was very pale now, but she still had an adorable nose. It came from her mother’s side; the Denbighs had long ones with a hump, called politely Roman. Her grandfather, watching her intently, saw her slip a ring from her finger and put it into her pocket. As she said nothing, the colonel got his breath. “She’ll want to know, I’ll tell her the rest now,” he thought. “It’s like pulling a tooth—better get it over.”
“He’s married a French girl. Only known her three months. He’s bringing her home.”
Virginia rose quietly, gathering up her roses. She started to speak, but her lips trembled and she gave it up. She put the roses in the bowl on the colonel’s table and filled the bowl with water. Her hands were quite firm.
“I hope she’s nice,” she said at last, in a low voice.