“And what did he say?”
“Why, daughter——” The major flung his cigar from him with desperate energy. “It was most embarrassing!” he exclaimed—“most painful!” His pale old face was crimson with blushes.
“Go on, papa,” said Sylvia, gentle but firm.
“The poor boy—naturally, Sylvia, he could not but feel hurt that I should think it necessary to ask such questions. Such things are not done, my child. It seemed to him that I must look upon him as—well, as much worse than other young fellows——”
The old man stopped, and began to walk restlessly up and down. “Yes, papa,” said Sylvia. “What else?”
“Well, he said it seemed to him that such a matter might have been left to the honour of a man whom I was willing to think of as a son-in-law. And you see, my child, what an embarrassing position I was in; I could not give him any hint as to my reason for being anxious about these matters—anything, you understand, that might be to the discredit of your husband.”
“Go on, papa.”
“Well, I gave him a fatherly talking to about his way of life.”
“Did you ask him the definite question as to his health?”
“No, Sylvia.”