"Of course he's fine," said Miss Goodenough; "but you've quite worn him out."
"Have I quite worn you out?" Mr. Betterman calmly inquired.
As if indeed finished, each thumb now in a pocket of his trousers, the young man dimly smiled. "I think you must have—quite."
"Well, let Miss Mumby look after you. He'll find her there?" his uncle asked of her colleague. And then as the latter showed at this her first indecision, "Isn't she somewhere round?" he demanded.
Miss Goodenough had wavered, but as if it really mattered for the friend there present she responsibly concluded. "Well, no—just for a while." And she appealed to Gray's indulgence. "She's had to go to Mr. Gaw."
"Why, is Mr. Gaw sick?" Mr. Betterman asked with detachment.
"That's what we shall know when she comes back. She'll come back all right," she continued for Gray's encouragement.
He met it with proper interest. "I'm sure I hope so!"
"Well, don't be too sure!" his uncle judiciously said.
"Oh he has only borrowed her." Miss Goodenough smoothed it down even as she smoothed Mr. Betterman's sheet, while with the same movement of her head she wafted Gray to the door.