An announcement that fairly took away Honora's breath. She managed to express her appreciation of Mrs. Grainger's intention, and presently found herself walking rapidly up-town through swirling snow, somewhat dazed by the events of the afternoon. And these, by the way, were not yet finished. As she reached her own door, a voice vaguely familiar called her name.
“Honora!”
She turned. The slim, tall figure of a young woman descended from a carriage and crossed the pavement, and in the soft light of the vestibule she recognized Ethel Wing.
“I'm so glad I caught you,” said that young lady when they entered the drawing-room. And she gazed at her school friend. The colour glowed in Honora's cheeks, but health alone could not account for the sparkle in her eyes. “Why, you look radiant. You are more beautiful than you were at Sutcliffe. Is it marriage?”
Honora laughed happily, and they sat down side by side on the lounge behind the tea table.
“I heard you'd married,” said Ethel, “but I didn't know what had become of you until the other day. Jim never tells me anything. It appears that he's seen something of you. But it wasn't from Jim that I heard about you first. You'd never guess who told me you were here.”
“Who?” asked Honora, curiously.
“Mr. Erwin.”
“Peter Erwin!”
“I'm perfectly shameless,” proclaimed Ethel Wing. “I've lost my heart to him, and I don't care who knows it. Why in the world didn't you marry him?”