“Mother is quieter,” she said. “We must be very patient, Oliver. Have you decided yet as to whether the priest is to come again?”
He shook his head.
“I can think of nothing,” he said, “but of what I have to do. You decide, my dear; I leave it in your hands.”
She nodded.
“I will talk to her again presently. Just now she can understand very little of what has happened.... What time shall you be home?”
“Probably not to-night. We shall sit all night.”
“Yes, dear. And what shall I tell Mr. Phillips?”
“I will telephone in the morning.... Mabel, do you remember what I told you about the priest?”
“His likeness to the other?”
“Yes. What do you make of that?”