“Well, well, I see I must help you a little. Come and see us again in a day or two. I’ll drop you a line.”
“I don’t want to be a bore,” said Wroxham.
“I have reason to believe that you’ll find Winnie in a different state of mind. Keep yourself free to come any day I fix. And now go home and have a good night’s sleep.”
Wroxham got up and shook hands. He left the Canon in the smoking-room. The clerical gentleman put down his cigarette and smiled to himself with much self-satisfaction. He sang again softly:
“For I’m no sailor bold,
And I’ve never been upon the sea;
And if I fall therein, its a fact I couldn’t swim,
And quickly at the bottom I should be.”
He returned to the ball-room jauntily, and on his way was so fortunate as to meet Mr. Wilson. This was the journalist of much influence in ecclesiastical circles whose good offices with the press he had already made use of.
“Ah, my dear Wilson, it was charming of you to put that little announcement in the paper for me,” he said. “I’m rejoiced to see that Dr. Gray has been given the bishopric.”
“I’m afraid the news is entirely premature,” answered the other. “No appointment has been made at all.”
“Indeed! You surprise me. It was announced so confidently in the Westminster Gazette.”