Then the dinner gong sounded, and he straightway forgot all about the matter; but his wife could not get it out of her mind. Her dearest girl friend had married a man who had turned out to be an incurable drunkard, and the tragedy of those two ruined lives came back to her vividly, so vividly in fact that she determined to call at Drylands on the following day, nominally to offer her congratulations to Vera Farlow, really to see if she could not whisper a word of warning into Mrs. Grimmer's ear.
"Mrs. Grimmer is not at home," the servant said, in answer to her inquiry.
Mrs. Richards began to open her card case, then, acting on a sudden resolution, she looked up again and asked, "Is Miss Farlow in?"
"Yes, madam," the maid answered.
Mrs. Richards closed her card case with a snap, and followed the maid into the drawing-room.
Vera looked so happy that for a moment the visitor hesitated, then the very innocence and gentleness of the girl strengthened her resolution, clinched it, and she saw her path of duty more clearly than ever. Deliberately, she sought for an opening.
"Have you known Mr. Grierson long?" she asked.
"Not very long, really," Vera answered. "I met him first nearly two years ago, at dinner. But after that, I did not see him again until I came down here with the Grimmers. Still, he's a very old friend of Ethel's—Mrs. Grimmer, I mean—and his people are parishioners of my father's."
"Does he often go down to see his people?" Mrs. Richards asked, a new suspicion breaking on her mind.
Vera shook her head. "He's been so busy, you see; and it's a long way; in fact, I don't think he has been there for over a year."