“And he may have killed Hilton and poor Mr Chumbley, while they were defending her.”
“Yes, he might, certainly,” said the doctor, drily; “but how the—”
“Henry!”
“I only meant dickens. I say how the dickens he was going to carry her off when he was at the party all the time I can’t see.”
“But was he?”
“To the very last. Oh! it will all settle itself into nothing, unless Arthur has taken Helen off into the jungle and married her himself, with Hilton and Chumbley for witnesses.”
“Is this a time for joking, Henry?” said the little lady, reproachfully.
“Really, my dear, it would be no joke if Arthur had his own way.”
“I’m afraid,” sighed little Mrs Bolter, “that Helen Perowne had a good deal to with my brother accepting the chaplaincy.”
“I’m sure she had,” chuckled the doctor.