"Is it?" said Jack, unconcernedly. But his mind was on other things, perhaps.
As a matter of fact, it was on other things.
"Let's sit here five minutes," he said, as they came to a couple of vacant chairs. "Then I'll tell you a bit of news."
They sat accordingly. And the bit of news was the following:
"Muriel's hooked it."
Respect for her mother tongue caused Mary to demand a repetition of this cryptic statement.
"Hooked it with her Radical," Jack amplified. "They were married yesterday morning, quite quietly, 'owing to the indisposition of his Grace,' the papers say. And they are now in Scotland on their honeymoon."
"Let us hope they'll be happy," said Mary. "She has a very brilliant husband, at any rate."
"Not a doubt of that. If brains breed happiness, they'll be all right."
But do brains breed happiness? that was the question in their minds at the moment. Aunt Charlotte had brains undoubtedly, but as she passed them three minutes since no one could have said that she looked happy. The Duke had brains, but few would have said that he was happy. Mary herself had brains, and they had brought her within an ace of wrecking her one chance of real happiness.
They were in the midst of this philosophical inquiry, when Chance, that prince of magicians, gave the kaleidoscope a little loving shake, and hey! presto! the other side of the picture was laughingly presented to them.
A rather lop-sided young man in a brown bowler hat
