'I'm glad I'm dark,' I murmured.

'Fair an' false she is,' continued the soothsayer, 'the words of 'er
mouth are like 'oney an'----'

'I tell you I consider all this rubbish,' interrupted Marion briskly.
'You would be far better not to believe in such foolish things,
Elizabeth. They do you no good.'

Elizabeth retired in some indignation, muttering, 'Well, don't say you
wasn't told.'

We sat in strained silence--for it was the first occasion there had
been any hint of a tiff between us--and after a time Marion rose to go.
When Henry had put on his overcoat to accompany her home she was
nowhere to be found. Hearing voices proceeding from the kitchen, I
went in that direction. It was then I heard Marion remark in a casual
tone--the casualness a little overdone: 'You might let me hear if he
says any more about it.'

'Right-o, Miss.'

'And, oh, by the way, Elizabeth, what was that you said about a
rival--are you quite sure that she is fair?'

CHAPTER XVI

I should like to begin this chapter by saying it's the unexpected that
always happens. As that, however, would be too trite a remark, I will
only say that William was the last person on earth I should have
suspected of falling in love with Gladys Harringay.

She is, indeed, exceedingly pretty in a fluffy kind of way and most men
like to flirt with her, but they do not let their attentions develop
into anything serious. Perhaps you know the sort of girl she is. She
makes a dead set at every eligible man she meets and concentrates on
him to such an extent that he ends by losing interest in her
altogether--actually avoiding her, in fact. Man is like that, I've
observed. I suppose it's the primitive instinct of the hunter which
still lurks in him and makes him desire to stalk down his quarry
instead of its stalking him. Gladys didn't seem aware of this supreme
fact, and (though she affected the giddy airs of eighteen) she was
getting perilously near the age when the country considers a woman is
wise and staid enough to vote, yet she still remained unwed.

Never for a moment did it occur to me, when I asked her to dine with us
one evening, that she would go for William. Still less did I think
that he would take even the faintest interest in such a vapid creature.
But, as I wanted to say before, it's the unexpected that always happens.

William was looking unusually nice that evening. His eyes had a
far-away, rather haunted expression, due to his w