Three hours later Miss Howe, passing out of the hospital gate, was overtaken by Duff Lindsay, riding, with a look of singular animation and vigour. He flung himself off his horse to speak to her, and as he approached he drew from his inner coat pocket the brown envelope of a telegram.
“Good-morning,” he said. “You do look fagged. I have a—curious—piece of news.”
“Alicia told me that you were starting early this morning for Madras!”
“I should have been, but for this.”
“Read it to me,” Hilda said, “I'm tired.”
“Oh, do you very much mind? I would rather—”
She took the missive; it was dated the day before, Colombo, and read—
“Do not expect me was married this morning to Colonel Markin S A we may not be unequally yoked together with unbelievers glory be to God Laura Markin”
She raised her eyes to his with the gravest, saddest irony.
“Then you—you also are delivered,” she said; but he said “What?” without special heed; and I doubt whether he ever took the trouble to understand her reference to their joint indebtedness.