“He struck me as being so!” answered Joy composedly. Her friend glanced at her with shrewd eyes. “Hum!” she said. “You are very discreet, my dear Joy. Now you know that the truth is that Roger Bracknell is a man who takes the eye, a handsome man in fact, and why you should be reluctant to own up—”
“Own up! What do you mean?” interrupted Joy, her face growing suddenly scarlet.
“Nothing,” laughed her friend, “except that Roger Bracknell is a man to whom few women could be as indifferent as you pretend to be. But I must cut this conversation short. There’s Adrian Rayner looking for you, and coming this way. I’ll send him on to you.”
“Please don’t,” cried Joy; but her hostess only laughed, and as she walked towards the young man Joy fled to her room.
Late into the night she considered the possibilities which had presented themselves to her mind at the mention of Roger Bracknell’s possible succession to Harrow Fell, and in the morning she rode to the post office in the neighbouring country town, and there dispatched two cablegrams, one to Roger Bracknell, care of the Police Commissioner at Regina, explaining to him the circumstances, and one to the Commissioner himself asking for the whereabouts of Corporal Bracknell, prepaying a reply. Three days later the reply reached her in London.
“Corporal Bracknell reported as missing. Supposed lost.”
When she received it, she was greatly distressed, and rather hurriedly made up her mind to return at once to North Star. Why she should do so, she did not make clear even to herself; and when Adrian Rayner pressed her for her reason, she was covered with confusion.
“Joy,” he protested, “you must not do anything so foolish. You have fulfilled the terms of your father’s will to the letter, and now your place is here in England. We all want you here! I want you more than any one else on earth. Do you understand?”
She gave him no reply to the question, but he explained further, leaving her no room for doubt. “I love you, Joy. I loved you when you were here in England three years ago. I loved you at North Star. I love you more madly than ever, now. Will you marry me?”
“I can’t,” she said. “Don’t press me, Adrian.”