He spoke with a certain pressure, a certain intensity, and his eyes never left Rosamund’s face.
“I’m glad my Dion’s one of them,” she said. “And Robin will be glad, too, some day.”
She said nothing more about Mrs. Browning and Little Cloisters. But when Canon Wilton had gone she said to her sister:
“Beattie, does it ever strike you that Canon Wilton’s rather abrupt and unexpected sometimes in what he says?”
“He doesn’t beat about the bush,” replied Beatrice. “Do you mean that?”
“Perhaps I do. Now I’m going down to Robin. How strong he’s getting here! Hark at his voice! Can’t you hear even in his voice how much good Welsley had done him?”
Robin’s determined treble was audible as he piped out:
“Oh no, Fipper! Not by the Bish’s wall! Why, I say, the slugs always comes there. They do, weally! You come and see! Come quick! I’ll show——”
The voice faded in the direction of the Palace.
“I must go down and see if it’s true about the slugs,” exclaimed Rosamund.