Listening to
Eustace Hignett's story of his blighted romance, Sam had formed an
unflattering opinion of this Wilhelmina Bennett who had broken off her
engagement simply because on the day of the marriage his cousin had
been short of the necessary wedding garment. He had, indeed, thought a
little smugly how different his goddess of the red hair was from the
object of Eustace Hignett's affections. And how they had proved to be
one and the same. It was disturbing. It was like suddenly finding the
vampire of a five-reel feature film turn into the heroine.
Some men, on making the discovery of this girl's identity, might have
felt that Providence had intervened to save them from a disastrous
entanglement. This point of view never occurred to Samuel Marlowe. The
way he looked at it was that he had been all wrong about Wilhelmina
Bennett. Eustace, he felt, had been to blame throughout. If this girl had
maltreated Eustace's finer feelings, then her reason for doing so must
have been excellent and praiseworthy.
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