“That’s enough, Dennis,” I said.
“Well,” said Lawrence Redding, “I must be off. Thank you very much, Mrs. Clement, for a very pleasant evening.”
Griselda and Dennis saw him off. Dennis returned to the study alone. Something had happened to ruffle the boy. He wandered about the room aimlessly, frowning and kicking the furniture.
Our furniture is so shabby already that it can hardly be damaged further, but I felt impelled to utter a mild protest.
“Sorry,” said Dennis.
He was silent for a moment and then burst out:
“What an absolutely rotten thing gossip is!”
I was a little surprised. Dennis does not usually take that attitude.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I don’t know whether I ought to tell you.”
I was more and more surprised.
“It’s such an absolutely rotten thing,” Dennis said again. “Going round and saying things. Not even saying them. Hinting them. No, I’m damned—sorry—if I’ll tell you! It’s too absolutely rotten.”
I looked at him curiously, but I did not press him further. I wondered very much, though. It is very unlike Dennis to take anything to heart.
Griselda came in at that moment.
“Miss Wetherby’s just rung up,” she said. “ Mrs. Lestrange went out at a quarter past eight and hasn’t come in yet. Nobody knows where she’s