“Thank you,” said Roy, warmly shaking hands, "thanks. It was very sudden. Poor little Ethel died a saint if ever there was one.”
“I have not forgotten you in your absence. I have the promise of five Masses for her from the Fathers. I felt sure that would be pleasing to you.”
“Thanks, indeed,” He was touched by his friend's thoughtfulness, and the remembrance of Ethel brought a big lump into his throat, and for a moment there was a catching of the breath. “Excuse me, Ambrose. Your kindness—our sudden loss—my heart is wrenched—her—she—oh! you know how it is,”
“Yes, yes, I know——”
“And I have come back,” said Roy, certainly irrelevantly, "I have come back under the most favorable conditions with respect to my father.”
“Yes?”answered Ambrose, quite ignorant of what the conditions might be. Roy saw that for all their talks, Bracebridge remembered nothing of the previous relations between himself and his father. He saw by his questioning “yes,” and by his eyes, which
were nothing less than interrogation points, that his friend was curious to learn more, although he delicately refrained from asking.
“It's a long story, Brosie, old man. I can't tell it to you now on the platform here. I'll tell you some time to-day—after we have had breakfast. I am as hungry as a wolf. Let's go to a hotel and get breakfast.”
“No, the college carriage is outside waiting for you, and breakfast for four is to be ready by the time we get back.”
“For four?”