"Well, what's happened since I've been gone, mother?" asked Carnac. "Is
nobody we're interested in married, or going to be married?"
It was spring-time eight months after Carnac had vanished from Montreal,
and the sun of late April was melting the snow upon the hills, bringing
out the smell of the sprouting verdure and the exultant song of the
birds.
His mother replied sorrowfully: "Junia's been away since last fall. Her
aunt in the West was taken ill, and she's been with her ever since. Tell
me, dearest, is everything all right now? Are you free to do what you
want?"
He shook his head morosely. "No, everything's all wrong. I blundered,
and I'm paying the price."
"You didn't find Luzanne Larue?"
"Yes, I found her, but it was no good. I said there was divorce, and she
replied I'd done it with my eyes open, and had signed our names in the