He could deal with Alice more effectually than ever. Neither Mary nor Alice knew what he knew. They hadn't dreamed that it was Gwenda that young Rowcliffe wanted. He would use his knowledge to bring Alice to her senses.
* * * * *
It was on a Wednesday that he dealt with her.
He was coming in some hours earlier than usual from his rounds when she delivered herself into his hands by appearing at the foot of the staircase with her hair extravagantly dressed, and wearing what he took, rightly, to be a new blue gown.
He opened the study door, and, with a treacherous smile, invited her to enter. Then he looked at her.
"Is that another new dress you've got on?" he inquired, still with his bland treachery.
"Yes, Papa," said Alice. "Do you like it?"
The Vicar drew himself up, squared his shoulders and smiled again, not quite so blandly. His attitude gave him a sensation of exquisite and powerful virility.
"Do I like it? I should, perhaps, if I were a millionaire."
"It didn't cost so much as all that," said Alice.