“What nonsense, my dear,” said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. “I predict many, many very happy days for you. You have that beautiful gift of bringing your joy with you.”
Jack accompanied them on their way to the road. “Kathleen and I are hoping that perhaps you may be able to come to our wedding. It will be very soon—in a few weeks.”
“Yes, could you, Jane, dear?” said Kathleen. “We should like it above everything else. I know it is a long, long journey, but if you could.”
“When is it to be?” said Jane.
“Somewhere about the middle of October.” But Jane shook her head disconsolately. By that time she knew she would be deep in her university work, and with Jane work ever came before play.
“I am afraid not,” she said. “But, oh, I do wish you all the happiness in the world. Nothing has ever made me so glad. Oh, but you will be happy, I know. Both of you are so lovely.” A sudden rush of tears filled the deep dark eyes as she shook hands with Jack in farewell. “But,” she cried in sudden rapture, “why not come to us for a day on your wedding trip?”
“That's a splendid idea.” For a moment or two Jack and Kathleen stood looking at each other.
“Jane, we shall surely come. You may count on us,” said Jack.
In the afternoon Mrs. Gwynne sent Jane away for a ride with Larry.
“Just go quietly, Larry,” said his mother. “Don't race and don't tire Jane.”