Jack's face, as he turned from the books, was composed and assured.
"She never promised to marry you, if you did become a Catholic," Loring persisted. "You're banking so frightfully on some mysterious instinct."
"I'm as certain of her as you are of Miss Hunter-Oakleigh."
"I was certain of Sonia four years ago. If you're wrong?"
Jack was silent for many moment before answering.
"Well, she and you and I shall know about it; and none of us will have much interest in talking about it.... For the rest—well, my poor family will be spared a nasty jar."
"You haven't told them yet?"
"No, I thought I'd wait till I'd got something to shew for my apparent lapse from sanity."
When they parted, it was Jack who went to bed with a tolerably tranquil mind and Loring who first tramped the library like a caged beast and then put on his hat and wandered aimlessly into the streets. He was no nearer conviction when Lady Knightrider called next morning to warn him that there had been some unexplained friction between Jack and Barbara earlier in the season and to ask whether it was politic for them to meet at Chepstow.