There was something about her tone that was not encouraging; at any rate he did not pursue the subject.
“Where is Jeremy?” he asked next.
“He has gone out.”
Presently, Ernest, having finished his second cup of tea, went out too, and came across Jeremy mooning about the yard.
“Hullo, my hearty! and how are you after your dissipations?”
“All right, thank you,” answered Jeremy, sulkily.
Ernest glanced up quickly. The voice was the voice of Jeremy, but the tones were not his tones.
“What is up, old chap?” he said, slipping his arm through his friend’s.
“Nothing.”
“O yes, there is, though. What is it? Out with it? I am a splendid father confessor.”