As Ellen came to this determination she saw Mr. Levinger walking towards her. He was leaning on his stick, as usual, and looked particularly refined in his summer suit and grey wide-awake hat.
“How do you do, Miss Graves?” he said, in his gentle voice: “I heard that you were here, but did not come out because I thought you might wish to have a chat with Emma. Where has she gone?”
“I don’t know,” Ellen answered, as they shook hands.
“Well, I dare say that she will be back presently. How hot it is here! Would you like to come and sit in my study till luncheon is ready?” And he led the way to a French window that opened on to the lawn.
Mr. Levinger’s study was a very comfortable room, and its walls were lined with books almost to the ceiling. Books also lay about on the desk. Evidently he had risen from reading one of them, and Ellen noticed with surprise that it was Jeremy Taylor’s “Holy Living.”
“How is your brother to-day?” he asked, when they were seated.
Ellen reflected a moment, and determined to take advantage of the opportunity to unbosom herself.
“He is doing as well as possible, thank you. Still I am anxious about him.”
“Why? I thought that he was clear of all complications except the chance of a limp like mine.”
“I did not mean that I was anxious about his health, Mr. Levinger. I am sure that you will forgive me if I am frank with you, so I will speak out.”