Where were they to go, please?
what were they to do?
Rowland glanced at Roderick, but Roderick had his back turned and was gazing at his Adam with the intensity with which he might have examined Michael Angelo's Moses.
"Roderick says he does n't know, he does n't care," Mrs.Hudson said; "he leaves it entirely to you." Many another man, in Rowland's place, would have greeted this information with an irate and sarcastic laugh, and told his visitors that he thanked them infinitely for their confidence, but that, really, as things stood now, they must settle these matters between themselves; many another man might have so demeaned himself, even if, like Rowland, he had been in love with Mary Garland and pressingly conscious that her destiny was also part of the question.

But Rowland swallowed all hilarity and all sarcasm, and let himself seriously consider Mrs.
Hudson's petition.

His wits, however, were but indifferently at his command; they were dulled by his sense of the inexpressible change in Mrs.Hudson's attitude.

Her visit was evidently intended as a formal reminder of the responsiblities Rowland had worn so lightly.

Mrs.Hudson was doubtless too sincerely humble a person to suppose that if he had been recreant to his vows of vigilance and tenderness, her still, small presence would operate as a chastisement.