“Ah! I hope he is well. The boy is not strong.”
“Yes, he is quite well, thank you. But of course he has had a great shock, and one cannot expect him to get over it all at once.”
The Rector did not hold much by sentiment, so he contented himself with a grave sip of sherry.
“And now I am afraid there is fresh trouble,” added Mrs. Agar.
“Been running into debt?” suggested Mr. Glynde.
“No, it is not that. No, it is Dora.”
“Dora! What has Dora been doing?”
Mrs. Agar was polishing the rim of a silver salt-cellar with her forefinger.
“Of course,” she said, “I have seen it going on for a long time. My poor boy has always—well, he has always admired Dora.”'
“Oh!”