The interview was easily brought about. Mrs. Agar wrote a note to the
Rector and asked him to luncheon. The Rector, who had not had many legal
affairs to settle during his uneventful life, was always pleased to be
consulted upon a subject of which he knew absolutely nothing. Besides,
they gave one a good luncheon at Stagholme in those days.
"I have had a letter from dear Arthur," said Mrs. Agar, at a moment which
she deemed propitious, namely, after a third glass of the Stagholme brown
sherry.
"Ah! I hope he is well. The boy is not strong."
"Yes, he is quite well, thank you. But of course he has had a great
shock, and one cannot expect him to get over it all at once."
The Rector did not hold much by sentiment, so he contented himself with a
grave sip of sherry.
"And now I am afraid there is fresh trouble," added Mrs. Agar.
"Been running into debt?" suggested Mr. Glynde.
"No, it is not that. No, it is Dora."
"Dora! What has Dora been doing?"
Mrs. Agar was polishing the rim of a silver salt-cellar with her
forefinger.
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