Philip and Lucy were waiting for them. And then, at last, Helena
remembered her telegram of the afternoon, and read it to a group of
laughing hearers.
"Right you are. I proposed last night to Jennie Dumbarton. Wedding,
October--Await reply. PETER."
"He shall have his reply," said Helena. And she wrote it with Geoffrey
looking on.
Not quite twenty-four hours later, Buntingford was walking up through
the late twilight to Beechmark. After the glad excitement kindled in him
by Helena's and Geoffrey's happiness, his spirits had dropped steadily
all the way home. There before him across the park, rose his large
barrack of a house, so empty, but for that frail life which seemed now
part of his own.
He walked on, his eyes fixed on the lights in the rooms where his boy
was. When he reached the gate into the gardens, a figure came suddenly
out of the shrubbery towards him.
"Cynthia!"
"Philip! We didn't expect you till to-morrow."
He turned back with her, inexpressibly comforted by her companionship.
The first item in his news was of course the news of Helena's engagement.
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