She told the lovers that Doctor Mary had been called for by Mr.
Beaumaroy, and had gone out with him, presumably to visit his friend Mr.
Saffron. It did not occur to either of them to ask when Mary had set
out; they contented themselves with exchanging a glance of disapproval.
What a pity that Mary should have anything more to do with this Mr.
Saffron and his Beaumaroy!
However there was a bright side to it this time. It would be kind of
Cynthia to sit up for Mary, and minister to her a cup of tea which
Jeanne should prepare; and it would be pleasant--and quite
permissible--for Captain Alec to bear her company. Mary could not be
long, surely; it grew late.
So for a while they thought no more of Mary--as was natural enough. They
had so much to talk about, the whole of a new and very wonderful life to
speculate about and to plan, the whole of their past acquaintance to
review; old doubts had to be confessed and laughed at; the inevitability
of the whole thing from the first beginnings had to be recognized,
proved, and exhibited. In this sweet discourse the minutes flew by
unmarked, and would have gone on flying, had not Jeanne reappeared of her
own accord, to remark that it really was very late now; did mademoiselle
think that possibly anything could have happened to Doctor Arkroyd?
"By Jove, it is late!" cried the Captain, looking at his watch.
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