“You must not be fond and wild,” he said decidedly. “Sit down, Chris.”
The monk came past him to the other side of the hearth, and faced him again, but did not sit down. He remained standing by the fire-place, looking down at Ralph, who was in his chair with crossed legs.
“What is this folly?” said Ralph again.
Chris stared down at him a moment in silence.
“Why, why—” he began, and ceased.
Ralph felt himself the master of the situation, and determined to be paternal.
“My dear lad,” he said, “you have dreamed yourself mad at Lewes. When did you come to London?”
“Yesterday,” said Chris, still with that strange stare.
“Why, then—” began Ralph.
“Yes—you think I was too late, but I saw it,” said Chris; “I was there in the evening and saw it all again.”