"Hanged if they haven't gone!" he grunted.
"HANGED IF THEY HAVEN'T GONE!"
"Gone? Who?" said Wiffler, passing the tobacco-jar.
"Why, Mrs. Jenkinson and Genevieve have gone to New York—for a change, they said; but they can't hoodwink me. They've gone to that College of Beauty—that's where they've gone! Nice state of things for me! Left all alone, as if I didn't happen to have such articles as a wife and daughter.... Where's your wife? Theatre—opera?"
"Not a bit of it!" replied Wiffler, gloomily. "Gone to New York, my friend; and now I see why they were so mad to go that way, although Matilda hates the sea and always gets frightfully ill. Now I see!"
At that moment Gradbury burst in melodramatically, the image of despair.
"Hullo, Gradbury!" said the other two, "what's wrong with you?"
"Ugh! Everything!" growled Gradbury. "Nice game for a man's wife and three daughters and niece to go off all at once to——"