The sentence went unfinished, and Sir Joseph, noticing her face, did not press for the conclusion. He was silent for a little time, wondering what lay behind her sudden change of manner. Then he spoke again.
“Young Bracknell is not your only admirer,” he said smilingly. “You have another.”
“Indeed,” said Joy, very obviously embarrassed.
“Yes! Adrian is very deeply in love. He confided the fact to me this morning.... I hope, my dear, that you will be able to listen to him, that you will be able to give a favourable—”
“Oh!” interrupted Joy nervously, “you must not ask me, uncle. I shall never marry. Never!”
“Never, my dear Joy! That, it is often remarked, is a very long time!” He smiled indulgently as he spoke, and then added, “I hope we may yet induce you to reconsider your very youthful decision.”
Joy did not answer. Her face was very pale, and she sat staring at the stage with tragic eyes, not watching the actors, but visioning a body lying in the snow in the sombre woods at North Star.