“And he apologised?” said Mary eagerly.
“Apologised? No, my dear; he made matters worse by his low bantering—chaff, young men call it—till my face burned, and I felt so shocked that I was ready to burst into tears. For I always did like Dr North. Such a straightforward, gentlemanly man. You always felt such confidence in him.”
Mary looked at her wildly.
“Oh, no, my dear,” continued her visitor, taking her look as a question; “nothing of the kind. I should have smelt him directly. He kissed me. He had not been drinking. And it’s so horrible, for I could never call him in again.”
“Hush!” whispered Mary. “Pray don’t speak of it before my brother.”
“Before your brother! Oh, no, my dear. I should sink with shame. But why did you say that?”
“Because he might come in, and I must think about it all before I mention it to him.”
“But—but Mr Salis—”
“My brother is not out.”
“Not out? I understood your maid to say he had gone to the church,” cried Mrs Berens, starting up in alarm.