“It's very thoughtful of him,” said Mrs. Phipps. “Very.”
“Thoughtful!” repeated Mr. Smithson.
“He has gone away for a time out of consideration for me,” said the widow. “As things are, it is a little bit awkward for us to meet much at present.”
“I don't think he's gone away for that at all,” said the other, bluntly.
Mrs. Phipps shook her head. “Ah, you don't know him as well as I do,” she said, fondly. “He has gone away on my account, I feel sure.”
Mr. Smithson screwed his lips together and remained silent.
“When he feels that it is right and proper for him to come back,” pursued Mrs. Phipps, turning her eyes upwards, “he will come. He has left his comfortable home just for my sake, and I shall not forget it.”
Mr. Smithson coughed-a short, dry cough, meant to convey incredulity.
“I shall not do anything to this house till he comes back,” said Mrs. Phipps. “I expect he would like to have a voice in it. He always used to admire it and say how comfortable it was. Well, well, we never know what is before us.”
Mr. Smithson repeated the substance of the interview to Mr. Clarkson by letter, and in the lengthy correspondence that followed kept him posted as to the movements of Mrs. Phipps. By dint of warnings and entreaties he kept the bridegroom-elect in London for three months. By that time Little Molton was beginning to talk.