Pringle.
[Following her.] He never was what you might call a "horsey" man—let us hope he won't come to that! Have you any idea how he came to be—er—affected like this?
Sylvia.
[Resentfully, through her tears.] There's no affectation about it, Mr. Pringle—oh, you mean "afflicted"—we can't think. He wasn't as bright as usual at breakfast—I think he was rather worried because he couldn't find that seal Horace lent him last night——
Pringle.
But no amount of worry——! Pardon me, I interrupt you.
[He takes a chair by the sofa.
Sylvia.
Well; then Jessie came in to say that a foreign gentleman had called to see him on important business. Father told her to show him into the study, and went in presently to hear what he came about. We heard them arguing, and father's voice seemed to be getting angry, so mother went in to beg him not to excite himself. She found father alone, and—just as she opened the door—he—he changed into a mule before her eyes.
[She breaks down entirely.