Vic's dead!" "Oh, poor Molly!" "Died this morning.Fits.I say," with a sudden inspiration, "you wouldn't go over and cheer her up, would you?
Mother's out.

I'm out.
Magistrates' meeting at D----." Ruth said she had nothing to do, and would go over at once, and Ralph nodded kindly at her, and rode on.

He liked her, and it never occurred to him that it could be anything but a privilege to minister to any need of Molly's.

He jogged on more happily after his meeting with Ruth, and only remembered half an hour later that he had completely forgotten to order the dog-cart to meet Charles, who was coming to Atherstone for a night before he went on to kill the Slumberleigh pheasants the following morning.
Ruth set out at once over the pale stubble fields, glad of an object for a walk.
Deep distress reigned meanwhile in the nursery at Atherstone.

Vic, the much-beloved, the stoat pursuer, the would-be church-goer, Vic was dead, and Molly's soul refused comfort.