Didn't dine with us either.' Wilfrid kept silence.
'Something wrong ?' was his father's next question.
'Yes, there is.' 'I'm sorry to hear that.' Wilfrid went to the fireplace and leaned his arm upon the mantelpiece.
As he did not seem disposed to speak, his father continued-- 'Nothing serious, I hope ?' 'Yes; something serious.' 'You don't mean that?
Anything you can talk about ?' 'I'm afraid not.

I shall go and see Beatrice as usual tomorrow.

I may be at liberty to tell you after that, though probably not for a few days.' Mr.Athel looked annoyed.
'I hope this is not of your doing,' he said.

'They tell me the girl is causing them a good deal of anxiety.

For the last few days she has been sitting alone, scarcely touching food, and refusing to speak to anyone.
If this goes on she will be ill.' Wilfrid spoke hoarsely.
'I can't help it.