“So serious!” repeated Phœbe, archly.
“So sweet,” said Arthur, promptly and tenderly—“serious is the conventional phrase.”
“Why did he neglect her? Did he speak of her unkindly when he left England?”
“He said something about Paul—her brother in those days, you know, when you were Miss Tallant—something about prying into his affairs.”
“Indeed!”
“Paul had followed him to the club, and warned him against some persons who were conspiring to win his money at cards.”
“Oh yes, I remember something of it; but I was not aware that the surveillance had gone so far. Mr. Hammerton was being deceived, I think, Amy said. There was a plot against him, she thought; but, poor girl, she was so deeply in love with him.”
“He felt annoyed that she had interfered in his private doings,” said Arthur; “he thought it was officious, I suppose.”
“Was that all?” asked Phœbe. “Then he did not love her.”
Arthur had too much regard for his old friend even now to hint that Lionel thought Amy was influenced by mere worldly motives.