They left it.
Rowcliffe had a sort of impression that he had said all that he had had to say.
XXXII
The Vicar had called Gwenda into his study one day.
"What's this I hear," he said, "of you and young Rowcliffe scampering about all over the country?"
The Vicar had drawn a bow at a venture. He had not really heard anything, but he had seen something; two forms scrambling hand in hand up Karva; not too distant to be recognisable as young Rowcliffe and his daughter Gwenda, yet too distant to be pleasing to the Vicar. It was their distance that made them so improper.
"I don't know, Papa," said Gwenda.
"Perhaps you know what was said about your sister Alice? Do you want the same thing to be said about you?"
"It won't be, Papa. Unless you say it yourself."
She had him there; for what was said about Alice had been said first of all by him.