Her fingers were tingling still under the pressure of his hand. The tones of his voice were still vibrating through the chambers of her brain, the colour mounted to her cheeks whenever she thought of him.
"Perhaps, when I see Gervase," she said to herself, "all my forebodings will vanish. It will be a comfort to know that I have been worrying myself for nothing. If he loves me for my own sake—and I shall soon find out if he doesn't—and if I—I—like him as I have always done, why there is no reason at all why we should not be two of the happiest people in the world. Nevertheless, I wish Sir Charles was not in such a hurry to arrange things."
She found Lady Tregony and Beryl pretending concern at her long absence, but very little was said, and Madeline did not explain why she had been so long.
"We have ordered dinner, my dear, for half-past seven," Lady Tregony said, in her blandest tones. "We have had another telegram from dear Gervase while you have been out. It was handed in at Bristol. He seems terribly impatient to be at home. I suppose you would not care to drive into Redbourne with Sir Charles to meet him?"
"No, indeed. I would prefer to meet him here, thank you."
"I am sure it would be quite proper, my dear, if you would care to go, and really Gervase seems dying to see you."
"I don't think it would be proper at all," Madeline answered, quite frankly.
"Oh, yes, my dear. Everybody now looks upon the engagement as a settled thing."
"Indeed. I did not know people took so much interest in our affairs, or indeed, knew anything about the matter."
"Oh, yes, my dear; it is impossible that such things can be kept a secret. I expect you will get tons and tons of congratulations on Friday."