"Why, what do you know?" asked Miss Phœbe.
"Miss Hornblower told me many things; some that I don't think you ought to hear, Phœbe. He was engaged to a very pretty Miss Gregson, at Henwick, where he comes from; and her father made inquiries, and heard so much that was bad about him that he made his daughter break off the match, and she's dead since!"
"How shocking!" said Miss Phœbe, duly impressed.
"Besides, he plays at billiards, and he bets at races, and some people do say he keeps race-horses."
"But isn't it strange that the earl keeps him on as his agent?"
"No! perhaps not. He's very clever about land, and very sharp in all law affairs; and my lord isn't bound to take notice—if indeed he knows—of the manner in which Mr. Preston talks when he has taken too much wine."
"Taken too much wine! Oh, sister, is he a drunkard? and we have had him to tea!"
"I didn't say he was a drunkard, Phœbe," said Miss Browning, pettishly. "A man may take too much wine occasionally, without being a drunkard. Don't let me hear you using such coarse words, Phœbe!"
Miss Phœbe was silent for a time after this rebuke.
Presently she said, "I do hope it wasn't Molly Gibson."