"Penelope's young man? Oh, Ralph Fenton, the fellow who makes 'pleasuring' pay so uncommonly well. He's been occupying an ignominious position at the wheels of Penelope's chariot ever since they both came to Mallow. I think Kitty Seymour would make a matrimonial agent _par excellence_--young men and maidens introduced under the most favourable circumstances and _no_ fee when suited!"--Sandy flourished his arms expressively.
"And if she could find a good, sensible lassie to tak' ye in hand, Sandy McBain, I'd no be grudgin' a fee."
"No good, mother of mine. I lost my heart to Nan here too long ago, and now"--with a lightness of tone that effectually concealed his feelings--"not to be outdone by Penny, she herself has gone and got engaged. So I shall live and die alone."
"And what like is the man ye've chosen?" demanded Eliza, turning to Nan. "Not another of these music-daft creatures, I hope?"
"I think you'll quite approve, Aunt Eliza," answered Nan with a becoming meekness. "I'm engaged to marry Roger Trenby."
"Well, I hope ye'll be happier than maist o' the married folks I ken. Eh!"--with a chuckle--"but Roger's picked a stick for his own back!"
"Do you think I'll be so bad to live with, then?"
"'Tisn't so much that you'll be bad with intent. But you're that Varincourt woman's own great-grand-daughter. Not that ye can help it, and I'm no blamin' ye for it. But 'tis wild blood!"
"After such a snub as that, I think I'd better take myself off. It's really time I started, as I'm walking."
"Let me run you back in the car," suggested Sandy eagerly.
"No, thanks. I'm taking the short cut home through the woods."
Sandy accompanied her down the drive. At the gates he stopped abruptly.
"Nan," he said quietly. "Is it quite O.K. about your engagement? You'll be really happy with Trenby?"
Nan paused a moment. Then she spoke, very quietly and with a touch of cynicism quite foreign to the fresh, sweet outlook upon life which had been hers before she had ever met Maryon Rooke.
"I don't suppose I should be really happy with anyone, Sandy. I want too much. . . . But it's quite O.K. and you needn't worry."
With a parting nod she started off along the ribbon of road which wound its way past the gates of Trevarthen Wood, and then, dipping into the valley, climbed the hill beyond and lost itself in the broad highway of light which shimmered from the western sky. Presently she turned aside from the road and, scrambling through a gap in a stone wall, plunged into the cool shadows of the woods. A heavy rain had fallen during the night, soaking the thirsty earth, and the growing green things were all responsively alive and vivid once again, while the clean, pleasant smell of damp soil came fragrantly to her nostrils.