"And what am I to say to the tenants and neighbours?" he sighed, returning to his original idea.
"You must let them understand that she got tired of the quiet life at Farley; that she wanted to see something more of the world; that she is paying visits to various friends. It is not true, of course; but we can't help that. Later, you can tell people that she is gone abroad—that she is travelling. That, I am sure, is near enough to the truth to satisfy a Jesuit," the old lawyer added, with a smile. "And really, my dear Shaw, we are in that position that we can't be too particular. I have thought a great deal over it. The thing is to avoid a scandal, and I see no way out of it but this."
"Well," conceded William, with a sigh, as he wiped his brow again, "neither do I; for my wife says, after Bessie treating her like this, she wouldn't like to take her back; so there's bound to be a row that way. If I only knew where she was, I wouldn't so much mind; but I don't feel as if I was doing my duty by the girl to let her go off and hide herself like this, without—without doing anything—eh?"
"I expect to know exactly where she is in the course of a day or two; at present I do not. I shall then communicate with you, and, on condition that you promise to leave her alone, I think I may promise that she shall write to you. I hope you will see the wisdom of subscribing to this. We have a difficult subject to deal with; one that requires great tact in handling."
William Shaw threw up his hands, and let them drop on his fat knees, with a gesture of discouragement.
"I suppose I must leave it to you, Twisden. I tried
