This seemed to make a difference. "He is out, Dr. Thorpe. We expect him in any moment though. For lunch. Will you please to come in and wait?"
"Thank you."
She felt called upon to deliver a bit of information. "He went down to see Mrs. Thorpe, sir,—your poor grandmother."
"I see," said Braden dully. It did not occur to him that enlightenment was necessary. A queer little chill ran through his veins. Was Dr. Bates down there now, telling Anne all that he knew, and was she, in the misery of remorse, making him her confessor? In the light of these disturbing thoughts, he was fast becoming blind to the real object of this, the first of the three visits he was to make.
Dr. Bates found him staring gloomily from the window when he came into the office half an hour later, and at once put the wrong though obvious construction upon his mood.
"Come, come, my boy," he said as they shook hands; "put it out of your mind. Don't let the thing weigh like this. You knew what you were about yesterday, so don't look back upon what happened with—"
Braden interrupted him, irrelevantly. "You've been down to see Mrs. Thorpe. How is she? How does she appear to be taking it?" He spoke rapidly, nervously.
"As well as could be expected," replied the older man drily. "She is glad that it's all over. So are we all, for that matter."
"Did she send for you?"
"Yes," said Dr. Bates, after an instant's hesitation. "I'll be frank with you, Braden. She wanted to know just what happened."