"Now, isn't that a superfluous question?" she replied, holding it up. "Look at the size of it. Could any foot but his fill out that enormous bag? Of course it is for Ned. Don't you know it is the new fashion for wives to knit their husband's socks? One must be in the fashion, even if one's husband is a giant."
"Very nice for one's husband. It seems beautifully soft; pretty colour, too." Then, after a pause, "Does Rachel know how to knit?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Reade, calmly; "we both learned together while she was staying with me, and she does it much quicker than I do. I suppose you are thinking you would like to participate in the benefits of the fashion too?" she added, lifting her face suddenly, with a quick look in her bright eyes that was like the opening of a masked battery.
"If I thought that Rachel would ever knit socks for me, for the pleasure of it——" He paused with a change and break in his voice, regarding her wistfully.
Mrs. Reade immediately made a sheaf of her needles, wound them up in the sock, and impaled her ball of silk upon them. "Tell me," she said, folding her hands on her knees in a business-like manner, "tell me, what has Rachel been doing?"
"Don't you know? She has written to me to break off our engagement."
"What for?"
"I can't imagine—she doesn't say. I thought you might be able to help me to find that out."
Mrs. Reade looked at him in silence for a few seconds, kindly and gravely. Even she felt herself a little at a loss as to what course to pursue.
"What have you done?" she asked abruptly.