The Vicar boomed.
"You will leave my house this instant, Mr. Greatorex. And you will never come into it again."
But Greatorex was already looking for his cap.
"I'll navver coom into et again," he assented placably.
* * * * *
There were no prayers at the Vicarage that night.
* * * * *
It was nearly eleven o'clock. Greatorex was gone. Gwenda was upstairs helping Alice to undress. Mary sat alone in the dining-room, crying steadily. The Vicar and Rowcliffe were in the study.
In all this terrible business of Alice, the Vicar felt that his son-in-law had been a comfort to him.
"Rowcliffe," he said suddenly, "I feel very queer."