“Oh, but Dudley hasn’t been giving you trouble?” he asked. “You aren’t on bad terms with him?”
“One could not be on bad terms with Dudley,” she answered. “But he’s giving me trouble.”
“The hound!” Grimshaw answered.
“Oh, it isn’t what he does, it’s what he is,” she said quickly. She rose and put her little hand upon his arm. “Tell me, Robert,” she said, “what has happened to him He’s very ill.”
Grimshaw made a step back.
“Not tuberculosis, really?” he asked.
“I am sure he’s very ill,” she said, “mentally; he’s quite altered. What’s to be done?”
“My poor girl,” Grimshaw voiced his tenderness and concern.
“Tell me,” she adjured him, “what happened to him? It’s something that’s happened. He couldn’t do anything. Tell me the truth!”
“How should I know?” he asked. “How should I know?”