As the meal drew to a close, and the man leisurely sipped his coffee, he expressed his cordial regrets at his prolonged absences from home.
"It'll soon be over, Mon," he said thoughtfully. "I can see the end of things looming already. Such separations as ours are not good, are they? I shall be glad when—things are settled."
Monica gazed happily into his steady eyes.
"I'm simply yearning for that time to come, Alec," she cried, her eyes shining across the table into his. "But these separations will soon pass," she went on hopefully, "now that I am going to be so busy. Do you know, I don't think Angus thinks I'm capable of running the farm? But I'm just going to show him that I am."
Hendrie's eyes looked a swift inquiry.
"Has he said so—to you?" he asked.
Monica remembered in time. She had no desire to injure the man.
"Oh, no," she declared. "Only—only—I don't think he trusts me. I don't think he has much of an opinion of women."
At that moment a waiter approached.
"The east-bound mail has been signaled, Mr. Hendrie. She's due in twenty minutes."