That is all the story." "And quite enough, too," said Beatrice with a shudder.

"What times we live in! I feel quite sick." Supper that night was a very melancholy affair.

Old Mr.Granger was altogether thrown off his balance; and even Elizabeth's iron nerves were shaken.
"It could not be worse, it could not be worse," moaned the old man, rising from the table and walking up and down the room.
"Nonsense, father," said Elizabeth the practical.

"He might have been shot before he had sold the hay, and then you would not have got your tithe." Geoffrey could not help smiling at this way of looking at things, from which, however, Mr.Granger seemed to draw a little comfort.

From constantly thinking about it, and the daily pressure of necessity, money had come to be more to the old man than anything else in the world.
Hardly was the meal done when three reporters arrived and took down Geoffrey's statement of what had occurred, for publication in various papers, while Beatrice went away to see about packing Effie's things.
They were to start by a train leaving for London at half-past eight on the following morning.