And then another consoling thought struck him.
He could deal with Alice more effectually than ever. Neither Mary nor
Alice knew what he knew. They hadn't dreamed that it was Gwenda that
young Rowcliffe wanted. He would use his knowledge to bring Alice to
her senses.
* * * * *
It was on a Wednesday that he dealt with her.
He was coming in some hours earlier than usual from his rounds when
she delivered herself into his hands by appearing at the foot of the
staircase with her hair extravagantly dressed, and wearing what he
took, rightly, to be a new blue gown.
He opened the study door, and, with a treacherous smile, invited her
to enter. Then he looked at her.
"Is that another new dress you've got on?" he inquired, still with his
bland treachery.
"Yes, Papa," said Alice. "Do you like it?"
The Vicar drew himself up, squared his shoulders and smiled again, not
quite so blandly. His attitude gave him a sensation of exquisite and
powerful virility.
"Do I like it? I should, perhaps, if I were a millionaire."
"It didn't cost so much as all that," said Alice.
"I'm not asking you what it cost. But I think you must have
anticipated your next allowance."
Alice stared with wide eyes of innocence.
"What if I did? It won't make any difference in the long run."
The Vicar, with his hands plunged in his trousers pockets, jerked
forward at her from the waist.
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