"What is it?" he asked hastily. "Has Evan—done something worse than usual?"
"Not to my knowledge. It is not Evan."
"Not Evan, what then; tell me Mrs. Aliston," his face becoming paler and paler.
"Frank, your sister has eloped!"
He fell into the nearest chair, white and limp.
"Go on," he whispered hoarsely, lifting a haggard face towards her; "tell me—the worst, Mrs. Aliston."
"She has eloped with John Burrill," went on Mrs. Aliston, a shade of coldness in her voice. "They ran away on Saturday afternoon."
His head dropped forward and fell upon the table before him. Thus for a moment he remained motionless, then his voice broke the stillness, sounding faint and hollow.
"Is that—all—you can tell me?"
"All! Yes!" exclaimed Mrs. Aliston in a burst of nervousness. "I wish I had not told you so much. Frank don't take it so hard."