"And so shall I--so we needn't trouble about that." The Nun was baffled. A strange impassivity seemed to fall on her companion the moment that the talk was of Harry's wedding. She tried once again. "I do hope it'll turn out well." Isobel offered no comment whatever. In truth she was not sure of herself; her agitation was too recent and had been too violent--it might return. "I've known Harry for so long--and I like Miss Wellgood so much." She gave as interrogative a note as she could to her remarks--without asking direct questions. "I think he really is in love at last!" Surely, that ought to draw some question or remark--that "at last"? It drew nothing. "But--well, we used to say one never knew with poor Harry!" ("Further than that," thought the Nun, "without telling tales, I cannot go.") Isobel sat silent. The result was meagre. Isobel would talk about Wellgood, evasively but without embarrassment; references to Harry Belfield reduced her to silence. It was a little new light on the past; its bearing on the future, if any, was negative. She would not, it seemed, stay at Nutley with Wellgood. She would not talk of Harry. She had been crying. The crying was the satisfactory feature in the case. The Nun rose. "I must go in and see Miss Wellgood." "She's gone out with her father, I'm afraid. That's how I happen to be off duty." "And able to cry?" "Oh, I hope you'll forget that nonsense. I'm quite resigned to everything, really." She too rose, smiling at her companion. "Only I rather wish it was all over--and the plunge made!" The Nun reported the fact of her interview--and the results, such as they were--to Miss Dutton when she returned home. "Her crying shows that she doesn't think she's got much chance," said the Nun hopefully. "It shows she'd take a chance, if she got one," Miss Dutton opined acutely. "You mean it all depends on Harry, then?" "In my opinion it always has." That indeed seemed the net result. It all depended on Harry--not at first sight a very satisfactory conclusion for those who knew Harry. However, Andy, who came into the Lion later in the afternoon, was hopeful--nay, confident. He had mysterious reasons for this frame of mind--information which he declared himself unable to disclose; he could not even indicate the source from which it proceeded, but he might say that there were two sources. He really could not say more--which annoyed the Nun extremely. "But I think we may consider all the trouble over," he ended.