"Not one blushing bride, but two," said Grandmother Ludlow."How romantic." She presented her cheek to the nervous Mrs.Harley."You look years younger, my dear.Quite fluttery and foolish.How do you do, Mr.Harley? You are very welcome, Sir." She passed them both on to the old man and turned to Joan with the kind of smile that one sees on the faces of Chinese gods."And here is our little girl in whose marvellous happiness we have all rejoiced."Joan stood up bravely to the little old lady whose sarca** went home like the sharp point of a rapier.
"How do you do, dear Grandmamma," she said.
"No better than can be expected, my love, but no worse." The queer smile broadened."But surely you haven't torn yourself away from the young husband from whom, I hear, you have never been parted for a moment? That I can't believe.People tell me that there has never been such a devoted and love-sick couple.Martin Gray is driving another car, of course."Joan never flicked an eyelash.She would rather die than let this cunning old lady have the satisfaction of seeing that she had drawn blood."No, Grandmamma," she said."Martin needed exercise and is playing golf at Shinnecock.He rang me up this morning and asked me to say how sorry he was not to have the pleasure of seeing you this time." She went over to her grandfather and held up a marvellously equable face.
The old dame watched her with reluctant admiration.The child had all the thoroughbred points of a Ludlow.All the same she should be shown that, even in the twentieth century, young girls could not break away from discipline and flout authority without punishment.
The smile became almost gleeful at the thought of the little surprise that was in store for her.
The old sportsman took Joan in his arms and held her tight for a moment."I've missed you, my dear," he said."The house has been like a mausoleum without you.But I've no reproaches.Youth to youth,--it's right and proper." And he led her into the lofty hall with his arm round her shoulder.
There was a sinister grin on Gleave's poacher-like face when Joan gave him a friendly nod.And it was with a momentary spasm of uneasiness that she asked herself what he and her grandmother knew.
It was evident that they had something up their sleeves.But when, after a tea during which she continued to fence and play the part of happy bride, she went out into the scented garden that was like an old and loving friend, this premonition of something evil left her.
With every step she felt herself greeted and welcomed.Young flowers as guileless as children waved their green hands.Heads nodded as she passed.The old trees that had watched her grow up rustled their leaves in affectionate excitement.She had not understood until that very moment how many true friends she had or how warm a place in her heart that old house had taken.It was with a curious maternal emotion that clouded her eyes with tears that she stood for a moment and kissed her hands to the right and left like a young queen to her subjects.Then she ran along the familiar path through the woods to the spot where she had been found by Martin and stood once more facing the sweep of open country and the distant horizon beyond which lay the Eldorado of her girl's dreams.She was still a girl, but she had come back hurt and sorry and ashamed.Martin might have lost his faith in her.He had gone away without a word or sign.
Gilbert Palgrave held her in such small respect that he waited with patience for her to come, although married, into his arms.And there was not a man or a woman on the Round-about, except Alice, who really cared whether she ever went back again.The greedy squirrel peeked at her from behind a fern, recognized his old playmate, and came forward in a series of runs and leaps.With a little cry Joan bent down and held out her hand.And away in the distance there was the baying of Martin's hounds.But where was Martin?
