“I can sleep on the lounge myself,” he protested. “And though I shall be obliged to leave you for half an hour, I assure you I shall not be away a longer time.”
“Where are you going?” asked Derrick.
“To the Rectory. Mr. Barholm sent a message an hour ago, that he wished to see me upon business.”
Fergus agreed to remain. When Grace was on the point of leaving the room, he turned his head.
“You are going to the Rectory, you say?” he remarked.
“Yes.”
“Do you think you shall see Anice?”
“It is very probable,” confusedly.
“I merely thought I would ask you not to mention this affair to her,” said Derrick. The Curate's face assumed an expression at that moment, which it was well that his friend did not see. A shadow of bewilderment and anxiety fell upon it and the color faded away.
“You think—” faltered he.