“She set her heart on a good match for Cynthia and of course the inevitable happened. The wretched child has engaged herself to a boy with nothing to recommend him but a fine war record and an inadequate pension. Her mother is beside herself and, in a way, I don’t blame her. Cynthia might have married anybody.”
“Instead of which she’s marrying a nobody. And you like him.”
“How on earth did you know that?” said Lady Kean, startled. “You’re quite right, I do. John Leslie’s a nice boy and he knows how to manage Cynthia. There’s plenty of money on her side of the family and he’s working hard, farming on a small scale, and, I believe, manages to make it pay. The last I heard of the affair, he had been forbidden the house.”
“In spite of which, the engagement continues?”
“Of course! And I happen to know that Cynthia’s people went up to London this afternoon. John Leslie’s farm is halfway between Callston and Miss Allen’s. All of which accounts largely for Cynthia’s decision not to arrive here till late this evening. I don’t know anything; this is pure conjecture.”
“It seems sound reasoning. Who is this Miss Allen?”
“Mrs. Draycott’s sister.”
“Oh!” remarked Fayre, taking another cigarette and lighting it thoughtfully.
Lady Kean regarded him with approval.
“That was nice of you,” she said. “I don’t like her, either. The sister’s quite different, though. She went on to stay with her yesterday. I expect Cynthia’s meeting Mrs. Draycott to-night and if she doesn’t like her she’ll say so!”