"Four or five nights a-week," mechanically repeated Grace, passing over his question. "And at what time does she get home?"
"At all hours. Sometimes very late."
Grace sat communing with herself. Should she impart this matter of uneasiness to Mr. Grubb, or should she be silent, and let things take their chance; which of the two courses would be more conducive to the interests of Adela; for she was indeed most anxious for her. She looked up at him, at his noble countenance, betraying commanding sense and intellect—surely to impart the truth to such a man was to make a confidant of one able to do for her sister all that could be done. Mr. Cleveland and Mary both said he ought to hear it without delay. And Grace's resolution was taken.
"Mr. Grubb," she said, her voice somewhat unsteady, "Adela is your wife and my sister; we have both, therefore, her true welfare at heart. I have been deliberating whether I should speak to you upon a subject which—which—gives me uneasiness, and I believe I ought to do so."
"Stay, Grace," he interrupted. "If it is—about—Cleveland, I would rather not enter upon it. Lady Acorn spoke to me today, and I have given a hint to Adela."
"Oh no, it is not that. She goes on in a silly way with him, but there's no harm in it, only thoughtlessness. I am sure of it."
He nodded his head, in acquiescence, and began pacing the room.
"It is of her intimacy with Lady Sanely that I would speak; these frequent visits there. Do you know what they say?"
"No," he replied, assuming great indifference, his thoughts apparently directed to placing his feet on one particular portion of the pattern of the carpet, and to nothing else.
"They say—they do say"—Grace faltered, hesitated: she hated to do this, and the question flashed across her, could she still avoid it?