“Australia,” replied Mr. Clark, with a glance of defiance at the widow. “You must ha' been missed a great deal all this time.”
Mr. Tucker regarded him with a haughty stare. Then he bent towards Mrs. Bowman.
“Do you wish me to go back?” he asked, impressively.
“We don't wish either one way or the other,” said Mr. Clark, before the widow could speak. “It don't matter to us.”
“We?” said Mr. Tucker, knitting his brows and gazing anxiously at Mrs. Bowman. “We?”
“We are going to be married in six weeks' time,” said Mr. Clark.
Mr. Tucker looked from one to the other in silent misery; then, shielding his eyes with his hand, he averted his head. Mrs. Bowman, with her hands folded in her lap, regarded him with anxious solicitude.
“I thought perhaps you ought to know,” said Mr. Clark.
Mr. Tucker sat bolt upright and gazed at him fixedly. “I wish you joy,” he said, in a hollow voice.
“Thankee,” said Mr. Clark; “we expect to be pretty happy.” He smiled at Mrs. Bowman, but she made no response. Her looks wandered from one to the other—from the good-looking, interesting companion of her youth to the short, prosaic little man who was exulting only too plainly in his discomfiture.