"All this mystery is getting on my nerves," Edith remarked to Cosden as they sauntered out onto the piazza after a later breakfast. "Mr. Hamlen, after seeming perfectly rational with us in the bosquet yesterday, rushes into the house, packs his belongings, and disappears without saying 'good-bye' to any one. Marian, also rational when we saw her yesterday, becomes invisible to the naked eye, and sends word she has a headache—the first I've ever known her to have. This morning she is down to breakfast before any one of us is up except Mr. Huntington, who by a strange coincidence also craves an early breakfast for the first time on record. Marian has gone up-stairs again, and our friend Monty has motored off to Heaven knows where. Now then, what's the answer?"
"Why not accept Mrs. Thatcher's explanation until you have a better one?" Cosden asked, drawing his chair nearer to hers.
"Because it's too fishy, and my curiosity is aroused."
"In that case I'm sure you'll find out all about it," he said smiling.
"Why aren't you interested?"
"I'm perfectly comfortable," he explained, "and so entirely satisfied with the present company that I can spare Hamlen, Monty, and even Mrs. Thatcher just as well as not."
"Then you're going to leave me to do the work?" she demanded. "That's just like a man!"
"I'm glad they're gone," Cosden admitted. "It gives me just the chance I've been waiting for: will you marry me?"
"Again?" Edith inquired.