"Dear! dear! dear!" she said again. "How very unkind!"
William somewhat reluctantly refused the last piece of cake. He had, as a matter of fact, done full justice to the excellent meal provided by the village inn. It had given him a feeling of gentle, contented melancholy. He was basking in the thought of his unhappy home life.
"I'm sorry to keep reminding you of it," said the lady, "but I feel I really want to get to the bottom of it. There's generally only one explanation of an unhappy home. I've investigated so many cases. Does your father drink?"
William nodded sadly.
"Yes," he said. "That's it."
"Oh," breathed the lady, "your poor mother!"
But William wanted no division of sympathy.
"Mother drinks, too," he said.
"You poor, poor child!" said the lady.
William wondered whether to make Robert and Ethel drink, too, then decided not to. As an artist he knew the value of restraint.