"Mr. Lawrence? Isn't that the individual whom you met on the Dyke, and who was introduced to you by his umbrella?"
"Of course it is!"
"And he has proposed to you, has he? Very good of him, I'm sure. The sex has scored another victory. I did not know that matters had progressed with you so far as that! But now and then, I suppose, one does move quickly. I offer you my congratulations."
"Charlie! You are maddening!"
"Not at all. But I believe that it is a popular theory that a woman ought always to be congratulated on receiving a proposal from a man. The idea seems to be that it is the best gift which the gods can possibly bestow--upon a woman. And, pray, where did this gentleman so honour you? Right under Mr. Paxton's nose?"
"Cyril wasn't there."
"Not there?" Miss Strong turned her face away. Miss Wentworth eyed her for a moment before she spoke again. "I thought that you had an appointment with him, and that you went out to keep it."
"He never came."
"Indeed!"
Miss Wentworth's tone was dry. But, in spite of its dryness, it seemed that there was something in it which touched a secret spring which was hidden in her listener's breast. Suddenly Miss Strong broke into a flood of tears, and, running forward, fell on her knees at her friend's side, and pillowed her face in her lap.