“I know. I’ve poured out tea for him since he was so high,” cried Miggles, waving her hand indefinitely in the air. “He had it with me here two days before you came. It’s not many young men who would care to walk three miles to see an old woman, but I can’t say he looks well. Thin—worried! A man ought to be full of life at that age.”
“Fretting for me, dear! He’ll be all right this afternoon. You’ll see,” announced Miss Jean confidently. She would have said the same of any other young man of her acquaintance, nevertheless Vanna waited with some anxiety for the events of the afternoon. Strive as she might, she could not divest her mind of a feeling of responsibility towards Robert Gloucester; of the conviction that Jean was his by right, and that separation could end only in disaster.
At three o’clock that afternoon Piers Rendall walked up the garden path, and Jean rushed out to meet him. Vanna, from her seat in the hall, could hear the merry exchange of greetings.
“Halloa, Princess!”
“Halloa, Slave! How are you feeling?”
“Hugging my chains! This is a piece of luck, your coming down so soon. What brought you away from the gay capital before the end of the season?”
“The train, sir! People who ask personal questions must expect to be snubbed. I ran away, but not alone. I’ve a friend with me—Miss Strangeways. Come and be introduced.”
They had entered the hall while Jean was speaking, and Vanna caught the quick frown of annoyance on the man’s face. He had a strong, well-knit figure, and a thin, nervous face. His hair was dark, his features were sharply aquiline, the whole effect was handsome and distinguished, but not altogether agreeable. The dark blue eyes had a somewhat irritable expression, and the features were subject to an occasional nervous twitching. They twitched at sight of Vanna seated in the deep cane chair facing the door, and his lips straightened themselves eloquently. Vanna knew that he was mentally wishing her at Jericho, and seeing his hoped-for tête-à-tête turned into a dull trio. But the revelation was but momentary, and nothing could have been more courteous than his greeting.
“How do you do, Miss Strangeways? I have heard so constantly about you from Jean that it is a double pleasure to find you here.”
Vanna murmured a conventional acknowledgment and felt mentally antagonistic. To feel oneself de trop is never an agreeable experience, and unreasonable though it might be, she resented both Mr Rendall’s attitude and his courteous disguise of the same. During the meal which followed she remained stiff and silent, while her three companions chatted and laughed with the ease of old friendship. Jean sparkled, her depression dispersed by the presence of a companion of the opposite sex, Miggles beamed from behind the tea-tray, and indulged in reminiscent anecdotes, to which the young man lent the most flattering attention. His bright eyes softened in genuine kindliness as he looked into her large, good-natured face, and he waited upon her with the utmost solicitude. Evidently there was a real bond of affection between the homely old woman and the handsome man. Towards Jean his attitude was more complex. Vanna, watching with jealous, anxious eyes—jealous on behalf of that other suitor whose claims she had denied—could not decide how much or how little his feelings were involved. He admired her, of course—what man would not admire Jean? They bandied words together, joked, teased, protested, without a suspicion of self-consciousness; at times they smiled at each other with undisguised affection; at other times some light word uttered by the girl seemed to strike a false note, and the irritable expression in the man’s eyes flamed into sudden anger.