Then there was silence for a short space, and when Mrs. Abercarne spoke again it was about something else. By tacit agreement the master of the house was not mentioned again by either of the ladies until they had retired to rest.
Then Mrs. Abercarne heard a voice calling softly, “Mother!” and she perceived by the light of the fire a pair of very wide-awake eyes on the pillow beside hers.
“Yes, dear?”
“Why do people always think that honesty must go with rough manners?”
Mrs. Abercarne could not answer her. So she affected to laugh at the words as if they were a jest. But presently she asked in a rather tentative tone:
“Don’t you like Mr. Bradfield then?”
And the answer came very decidedly indeed:
“No, mother, I don’t like him at all.”