Julian coldly and absently echoed the words. “Oh, yes! I congratulate you, of course.”
Lady Janet returned to the main object of the interview.
“Now we thoroughly understand one another,” she said, “let us speak of a lady who has dropped out of the conversation for the last minute or two. I mean, Julian, the mysterious lady of your letter. We are alone, as you desired. Lift the veil, my reverend nephew, which hides her from mortal eyes! Blush, if you like—and can. Is she the future Mrs. Julian Gray?”
“She is a perfect stranger to me,” Julian answered, quietly.
“A perfect stranger! You wrote me word you were interested in her.”
“I am interested in her. And, what is more, you are interested in her, too.”
Lady Janet’s fingers drummed impatiently on the table. “Have I not warned you, Julian, that I hate mysteries? Will you, or will you not, explain yourself?”
Before it was possible to answer, Horace rose from his chair. “Perhaps I am in the way?” he said.
Julian signed to him to sit down again.
“I have already told Lady Janet that you are not in the way,” he answered. “I now tell you—as Miss Roseberry’s future husband—that you, too, have an interest in hearing what I have to say.”