"Judith won't die of a broken heart when her sister marries," says Challis dryly.
"I understand. But, Tite dear, do consider! A married sister younger than herself!"
"Miss Arkroyd isn't the sort of party to contract matrimony in order to walk in front of her sister at Court. Besides, there might not be another coronet handy, to walk in front with."
"What sort of party is she, then?" Challis thought to himself that a certain class of stupidity makes as formidable a cross-examiner, sometimes, as cleverness itself. Getting no immediate reply, his wife repeated, "Well!—what sort?"
"She's a problem; that's the expression nowadays. I'm not sure it isn't as good as another."
"Never mind the expression! You know you admire her very much."
"I do. But, you see, Polly Anne?—she won't act Estrild. So where are we?" What a boon Estrild, recollected just in time, had been in this conversation!
"What excuse does she give for backing out?" The speaker's grim attitude towards suggested breach of faith grated on her husband. But that was all in the day's work—the bad day's work!
"I think I'll have another pipe.... Oh yes!—I'm feeling all right again now; it was nervous, after that horrible affair at the station.... I'll fill it up new, and then I'll tell the whole story."
"I have no wish to pry into Miss Arkroyd's affairs. However, tell me if you like."