He was already placing a slice of ham upon his plate with a delicately cooked egg reposing in its midst, but he recollected himself and passed it across to his wife.
“Thanks, no,” she said with quite a hoarse croak. “Dry toast.”
Gertrude was of the same way of thinking. Only the lawyer made a hearty breakfast hastily, and then started for town.
“No, no, don’t you ladies move,” he said. “Finish your breakfasts. Apologise to George Harrington for me. Back in good time.”
He did not realise that the other occupants of the breakfast-table had been forcing themselves to swallow a few morsels, so as to keep up appearances; and as the door closed their eyes met, and Gertrude could contain herself no longer, but burst into a passion of tears.
“Hush, hush, my darling?” whispered Mrs Hampton, taking her to her breast. “Don’t take on about it. There, there, there; I want to play a mother’s part to you, and I’m only a clumsy imitation; but, indeed, Gertie, I want to advise you for the best.”
“Yes, I know you do,” whispered the poor girl, as she struggled hard to be composed. “But tell me you don’t think there is any reason for George being so late.”
For answer Mrs Hampton kissed her on the brow.
“You do not speak. It is cruel of you to be silent.”
“Do you wish me to speak out?”