The thought had not even occurred to him. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. Her shoulders were gripped hard and a familiar voice spoke. Why had she married him, off-hand, like that? She did not love him, or he knew nothing of love signs. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. “Really, I do not know why I should have doubted it.
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