"Yes, Uncle Peter. He told me yesterday that he—he cared for me, and we both hurried home to tell you, but you were——"
Sir Peter was out of his chair, and on his feet, now.
"You spoke to my niece before you came to me, Landless; knowing that I had met you—not more than three times, at most; that you had been in my house but once?" His voice was raised, his scowl threatening.
"I am sorry to have seen so little of you, sir," said John. "But I have seen a great deal of Phyllis."
"Where, sir?" demanded Sir Peter.
"At Saint Ruth's, and in its neighborhood," John answered evenly. "We have worked there together."
"How long has this been going on?" Sir Peter had regained control of himself, but his fine face was distorted. Phyllis's hands were clenched tightly in her lap. She was very pale.
"If you mean how long have we been meeting each other there, and going about in the neighborhood together——"
"I think my meaning is clear, sir."
"About four months, then. It seems a short time, but we have seen each other almost every day."