“Of course you don't. Mind, I bargain for the dinner in Eaton Square. I always told you I should dine there before I started.”
The next day Tom found that he was not engaged at twelve o'clock, and was able to appear in Eaton Square. He was shown up into the drawing-room, and found Katie alone there. The quiet and coolness of the darkened room was most grateful to him after the glare of the streets, as he sat down by her side.
“But Katie,” he said, as soon as the first salutations and congratulations had passed, “how did it all happen? I can't believe my senses yet. I am afraid I may wake up any minute.”
“Well, it was chiefly owing to two lucky coincidences; though no doubt it would have all come right in time without them.”
“Our meeting the other day in the street, I suppose, was one of them?”
“Yes. Coming across you so suddenly, carrying the little girl, reminded Mary of the day when she sprained her ankle, and you carried her through Hazel Copse. Ah, you never told me all of that adventure, either of you.”
“All that was necessary, Katie.”
“Oh! I have pardoned you. Uncle saw then that she was very much moved at something, and guessed well enough what it was. He is so very kind, and so fond of Mary, he would do anything in the world that she wished. She was quite unwell that evening; so he and aunt had to go out alone; and they met Mr. St. Cloud at a party, who was said to be engaged to her.”
“It wasn't true, then?”
“No, never. He is a very designing man, though I believe he was really in love with poor Mary. At any rate he has persecuted her for more than a year. And, it is very wicked, but I am afraid he spread all those reports himself.”