“It was a trying ordeal,” he remarked gravely, “and like you, I am relieved that the funeral is over. Poor Austin!”
John Hale winced. “Don’t!” he exclaimed. “Suppose we leave the—the laments to my sister-in-law, Agatha.”
Latimer nodded sympathetically. “She made an exhibition of herself in the chapel,” he acknowledged. “I had no idea that she was so attached to Austin. In fact,”—Latimer lowered his voice to confidential tones—“I’ve always understood that she opposed a marriage between Judith and Austin.”
“And quite rightly,” Hale’s voice rang out sharply. “Judith is a splendid type of young womanhood, while——” He checked his impetuous speech. “I opposed the match, also.”
“So I recall.” Latimer offered his cigarette case to his friend. His chubby face wore a troubled expression. “Agatha Hale is a bit of a trial, old man; let’s forget her.”
“I wish I could,” with gloomy fervor. “Why Robert ever picked out such a piece of contrariness I never could understand; one moment your friend, the next against you—and emotional!” His tone spoke volumes. “While Robert——” He smiled wryly and Latimer finished the sentence.
“Is the most unemotional of men,” he agreed. “Judith is more like you, John, than like either of her parents.”
Hale moved uneasily and changed the conversation with some abruptness as the car drove up to the curb and stopped before his brother’s residence.
“I’m much obliged to you, Frank, for bringing me home,” he said, preparing to spring out as the chauffeur opened the door. “I don’t think I could have stood driving back in the same car with Agatha and Judith. Won’t you come in with me?”
“I can’t, thanks; I have an appointment,” Latimer responded. “I’ll see you later perhaps at the club. Eh, what the——”