Can you spare me a little of your time?"
"Certainly," the other answered, with some appearance of surprise. "I'm
on my way home now."
They walked in silence toward the home of Mr. Candish, Ashe trying to
frame some form of words by which he could confess the sin of his heart
without betraying Mrs. Fenton. He wondered if Maurice Wynne could have
helped him, and reflected how they had been in the habit of confiding
everything to one another. Now he shrank from opening his heart to his
friend, and was almost seeking out a confidant in the highways and
hedges.
"You have not told me what sort of an accident you have had," Candish
observed, as he fitted the latch-key into the lock of his door.
"I was attacked by a man in the North End," Philip answered, obeying
the wave of the hand which invited him to enter. "He had insulted Mrs.
Fenton, and"--
"Mrs. Fenton!" echoed Candish.
The tone made Ashe turn quickly. Into his mind flashed the words of
Helen and of Mrs. Wilson connecting the name of Candish with that of
Mrs. Fenton. In his longing for comfort and advice he had seized upon
the rector of the Nativity without remembering that he was the last
person to whom he should come.
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