Hartley nodded, and they sat eying each other uneasily and waiting for the industrious Rosa to go. The captain got tired first, and throwing open the French windows slipped out into the garden and motioned to Hartley to follow.
"Joan wrote to you," he said, abruptly, as soon as they were out of earshot.
"Yes," said the other, stiffly.
"Understand, it wasn't my fault," said the captain, warmly. "I wash my hands of it. I told her not to."
"Indeed!" said Hartley, with a faint attempt at sarcasm. "It was no concern of mine, of course."
The captain turned on him sharply, and for a moment scathing words hung trembling on his lips. He controlled himself by an effort.
"She wrote to you," he said, slowly, "and instead of waiting to see me, or communicating with me, you spread the news all over the place."
"Nothing of the kind," said Hartley. "As a matter of fact, it's not a thing I am anxious to talk about. Up to the present I have only told Rosa."
"Only!" repeated the choking captain. "Only! Only told Rosa! Where was the town-crier? What in the name of common-sense did you want to tell her for?"
"She would have to be told sooner or later," said Hartley, staring at him, "and it seemed to me better to tell her before Joan came home. I thought Joan would prefer it; and if you had heard Rosa's comments I think that you'd agree I was right."