Mrs. Pendyce answered:
“Horace says he's getting too old.”
The dog looked up in her face, and her lip quivered.
The Rector laughed.
“Don't you worry about that; there's plenty of life in him.” And he added unexpectedly: “I couldn't bear to put a dog away, the friend of man. No, no; let Nature see to that.”
Over at the piano Bee and young Tharp were turning the pages of the “Saucy Girl”; the room was full of the scent of azaleas; and Mr. Barter, astride of a gilt chair, looked almost sympathetic, gazing tenderly at the old Skye.
Mrs. Pendyce felt a sudden yearning to free her mind, a sudden longing to ask a man's advice.
“Oh, Mr. Barter,” she said, “my cousin, Gregory Vigil, has just brought me some news; it is confidential, please. Helen Bellew is going to sue for a divorce. I wanted to ask you whether you could tell me——” Looking in the Rector's face, she stopped.
“A divorce! H'm! Really!”
A chill of terror came over Mrs. Pendyce.