“To whom did you say?” asked Lady Ivinghoe.
“‘Delrio to Flight.’ Oh, they will know his name and address fast enough when it gets to Rock Quay.”
“He is the clergyman at St. Kenelm’s,” put in Vera, in explanation; “very very advanced Ritualist, you know.”
“Indeed!” was the answer.
“Oh, yes, that he is. My sister Polly is perfectly devoted to him; but we don’t go to his church, except now and then, because my eldest sister is just one of those very old-fashioned people, you know, who want everything horrid and dull.”
“That is hardly what our cousins think of Miss Prescott,” said Phyllis. “I am so sorry for her anxiety! But I was not sure of the name of her place.”
“The Goyle! Isn’t it frightful?” said Vera.
“You say she was unprepared for your adventure?”
“Oh, yes, quite. Her notions are so dreadfully proper and old fashioned. She hasn’t got any sympathy, has she, Hubert?”
“I don’t know,” he said gravely. “I have always had the greatest respect for her.”