The afternoon wore on. The servants at Windygates, airing themselves
in the grounds--in the absence of their mistress and her guests--were
disturbed, for the moment, by the unexpected return of one of "the
gentlefolks." Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn reappeared at the house alone; went
straight to the smoking-room; and calling for another supply of the old
ale, settled himself in an arm-chair with the newspaper, and began to
smoke.

He soon tired of reading, and fell into thinking of what had happened
during the latter part of his walk.

The prospect before him had more than realized the most sanguine
anticipations that he could have formed of it. He had braced
himself--after what had happened in the library--to face the outbreak
of a serious scandal, on his return to the house. And here--when he came
back--was nothing to face! Here were three people (Sir Patrick, Arnold,
and Blanche) who must at least know that Anne was in some serious
trouble keeping the secret as carefully as if they felt that his
interests were at stake! And, more wonderful still, here was Anne
herself--so far from raising a hue and cry after him--actually taking
flight without saying a word that could compromise him with any living
soul!

What in the name of wonder did it mean? He did his best to find his way
to an explanation of some sort; and he actually contrived to account for
the silence of Blanche and her uncle, and Arnold. It was pretty clear
that they must have all three combined to keep Lady Lundie in ignorance