The last argument settled the matter in Mrs Trevor’s eyes. Truth to tell, she was not too anxious to introduce a stranger into her reunited family circle, but if it were easier and more convenient for Miles, and ensured for herself a greater amount of his society, it was impossible to refuse. She reaped the reward of merit in a growing liking and admiration for her guest, who was even pathetically grateful for her hospitality, and appreciative of the home atmosphere to which he had so long been a stranger.
Business engrossed the greater part of the time, but there were odd hours of leisure when the girls were suddenly commanded to get ready with all possible speed, and spirited off for an afternoon on the river, or on bicycle expeditions to the country, ending up with an evening meal at some old-fashioned country inn. They were treated to concerts also, and to entertainments of all sorts, including welcoming parties at friends’ houses, and when they bemoaned the speedy wearing out of evening dresses, Miles insisted upon providing new ones, regardless of expense.
“It’s most grateful and comforting to have a gold-mine in the family,” cried Jill, making languishing eyes at the senior partner. Of course she flirted with him—Jill flirted with everything in the shape of a man—monopolising his attention on all occasions in a manner which would have been somewhat trying to most elder sisters.
“But I know you don’t mind. You like best of all to be with Miles,” said Jill easily, when some remark of the sort was made, and Betty’s reply held an unexpected tartness.
“I don’t mind in the least. It is a matter of perfect unconcern to me how Mr Gerard behaves; but you are my sister. I am sorry to see you lowering your dignity, by being so silly, and flighty, and ridiculous! I am sure he must laugh at you in private?”
“He laughs to my face, dear. I amuse him wonderfully. He told me yesterday that I was as good as a tonic. Such a pity you should bother your poor old head about me! I understand men, my dear!”
The insinuation of that emphasised “I” was unmistakable. Jill began to hum—an aggravating habit of hers when she felt the mistress of a situation—and tripped lightly out of the room.
And Betty sat and thought. Burning like a furnace, throbbing in every nerve, shaking her even as she sat, came a sudden fierce heat of anger such as she had not experienced for many a long year. She had been accustomed to regard Jill’s flirtation from a mental height of affectionate disdain, to laugh with purest amusement at her assumption of superiority, but now of a sudden indifference had changed to anger and a sore rankling of jealousy, which puzzled as much as it disturbed. It could not be that she herself coveted Mr Gerard’s attention! Cynthia, Nan Vanburgh, all her friends had remarked times and again upon her indifference to masculine admiration, for, strange as it might seem, that romantic interview in the fog six years before had linked her sympathies so strangely with one man’s lot that she had had none to spare for later comers. Under God’s providence she had saved a life, and while those voiceless messengers told of its preservation, it must remain the one supreme interest of life. Some day “Ralph” would come home. Some day he would appear before her to announce his task completed, and to claim her friendship as his reward. Her mother pleaded with her not to allow a romantic fancy to ruin her life, pointed out that “Ralph” might have married long before now, that even if he returned she might be bitterly disappointed in his identity. In vain! Betty could not argue. She felt—and that was the end of the matter. The sympathetic attraction was too strong to be one-sided. At the other side of the ocean “Ralph” was waiting for her, even as she for him, and the meeting would surely come. It might be years hence, but—marvellous thought!—it might be to-day. Each fresh awakening brought with it a thrill and a hope.
All these long years had this fantasy lasted; it was not possible that it was beginning to fade at the sight of a pair of grave grey eyes, at the sound of a man’s deep-toned voice!
Betty sat and thought. Ten minutes passed, twenty minutes, half an hour.