He was not altogether sure that he had, but he lacked the courage to tell her so and checked an impulse to rescue his stillborn sermon from the grave.
"Though I don't quite like the idea of leaving my brother at Ambles with nothing to occupy his energies," John went on, meditatively, "I'm doubtful of the prudence of exposing him to the temptations of idleness."
"If you want to give him something to do, why don't you intrust him with getting ready the house for your Christmas party? You are always worrying about its emptiness."
"But isn't that putting in his way temptations of a more positive kind?" he suggested.
"Not if you set a limit to your expenditure. Can you trust his taste? He ought to be an adept at furnishings."
"Oh, I think he'd do the actual furnishing very well. But won't it seem as if I am overlooking his abominable behavior too easily?"
With a great effort John kept his eyes averted from the waste-paper basket.
"You must either do that or refuse to have anything more to do with him," Miss Hamilton declared. "You can't expect him to be the mirror of your moral superiority for the rest of his life."
"You seem to take quite an interest in him," said John, a little resentfully.
Miss Hamilton shrugged her shoulders.