"I really don't know," she replied, smiling. "We're not engaged any longer."
"Good news!" he cried with emphasis. "That is to say, it's good news if you wished the engagement to cease."
"I wasn't sorry."
He took her elbow, and glanced around. Mr. Trew was examining a set of milk churns with the air of an experienced dairyman.
"Isn't it amazing," said Henry, "how one lucky moment can change the appearance of everything? I've been feeling lately that nothing could possibly come right, and now—"
"We mustn't go on too fast," she interposed sagely, "because that only means more disappointment. You haven't heard yet about my father. Listen whilst I tell you about him."
Gertie waited, as she went on, for a relaxation in the pleasant hold on her arm, but this did not come. When she had said the last word, he nodded.
"I knew all about this long before you did," he said. "The information came from my sister-in-law. She had discovered the facts, and felt disappointed, I think, to find that I was not greatly impressed. Of course, you're not responsible for his actions any more than I can be held liable for the behaviour of Jim Langham. Jim is a much worse nut than your father; he hasn't any excuse for his conduct. Forged his sister's name to a big cheque, and, naturally, he has disappeared. I am giving him time to get away before I say anything about it to her."
"May be leaving England now, I suppose?"
"I hope so; but we needn't bother about him. Let us talk about ourselves, just as we used to do. Do you remember, dear girl?"