"Oh, it is. When do you go?"
"At once. They start in four days. I shall have to go up to town by the first train to-morrow."
"I'm sorry, but of course, if you must" . . .
"Oh, I must," Ingworth said importantly. "I have to see Ommany to-morrow night."
Unconsciously, as he urged the cob onwards, his head sank forward a little, and he imitated the grave pre-occupation of Lothian upon the drive out.
Mary Lothian was sitting in a deck chair in front of the house when the two men came through the gate. A little table stood by the side of her chair, and on it was a basket of the thin silk socks her husband wore. She was darning one of the expensive gossamer things with a tiny needle and almost invisible thread.
Mary looked up quickly as the two men came up to her. There was a swift interrogation in her eyes, instantly suppressed but piteous in its significance.
But now, she smiled.
Gilbert was all right! She knew it at once. He had come back from Wordingham quite sober, and in her tender anxious heart she blessed God and Dr. Morton Sims.
She was told of Dickson's opportunity. Gilbert was as anxious to tell, and as excited as his friend. "Oh, I am so glad, Dicker!" she said over and over again. "My dear boy, I am so glad! Now you've got your chance at last. Your real chance. Never come down here again if you don't make the most of it!"