"And threatened folk live long, uncle," said Mary Bonner.
"So they say, my dear. Well, Patience, don't look at me with so much reprobation in your eyes, and I will go to bed at once. Being here instead of at the Percy Standard does make one inclined to take a liberty."
"Oh, papa, it is such a delight to have you," said Clary, jumping up and kissing her father's forehead. All this was pleasant enough, and the first evening came to an end very happily.
The next morning Patience, when she was alone with her father, made a request to him with some urgency. "Papa," she said, "do not say anything to Clary about Ralph."
"Why not?"
"If there is anything in it, let it die out of itself."
"But is there?"
"How am I to say? Think of it, papa. If I knew it, I could hardly tell,—even you."
"Why not? If I am not to hear the truth from you who is to tell me?"
"Dear papa, don't be angry. There may be a truth which had better not be told. What we both want is that Clary shouldn't suffer. If you question her she will suffer. You may be sure of this,—that she will obey your wishes."