"It's very good of you," said Rickie, who had accepted the
invitation because he felt he ought to.

"Not a bit. And you mustn't expect us to be otherwise than quiet
on the holidays. There is a library of a sort, as you know, and
you will find Gerald a splendid fellow."

"Will they be married soon?"

"Oh no!" whispered Mr. Pembroke, shutting his eyes, as if Rickie
had made some terrible faux pas. "It will be a very long
engagement. He must make his way first. I have seen such endless
misery result from people marrying before they have made their
way."

"Yes. That is so," said Rickie despondently, thinking of the
Silts.

"It's a sad unpalatable truth," said Mr. Pembroke, thinking that
the despondency might be personal, "but one must accept it. My
sister and Gerald, I am thankful to say, have accepted it, though
naturally it has been a little pill."

Their cab lurched round the corner as he spoke, and the two
patients came in sight. Agnes was leaning over the creosoted
garden-gate, and behind her there stood a young man who had the
figure of a Greek athlete and the face of an English one. He was
fair and cleanshaven, and his colourless hair was cut rather
short. The sun was in his eyes, and they, like his mouth, seemed