“Going away. Into the country. I want to be quiet, and think.”
Janet did not ask the address. She sat silent, staring into space, then asked a sudden irrelevant question:
“Did he send you the cuckoo clock?”
“I—think so! It had no name, but it came from Switzerland while he was there. He has never referred to it since.”
“Ah!” Janet began pulling on her gloves. “I knew that, too. I felt that he had sent it. Well! I must go. It will all come right, of course, and you will be very happy. I’ve known Erskine so long, and his wife is sure to be happy.” Janet forced an artificial little laugh. “You will be engaged before me, after all, but I dare say I shall soon follow suit. It’s nice to be loved. As one grows older, one appreciates it more. And Captain Humphreys is a good man.”
“He is splendid! I loved his face. And he is so devoted to you. It was quite beautiful to watch him,” cried Claire, thankful from her heart to be able to enthuse honestly.
A load was lifted from her heart by Janet’s prophecy of her own future. For the moment it had no doubt been made more out of bravado than any real conviction, and inevitably there must be a period of suffering, but Janet was of a naturally buoyant nature, and her wounded spirit would gradually find consolation in the love which had waited so patiently for its reward. It needed no great gift of prophecy to see her in the future, a happy, contented wife.