But you see how
helpless I am--and read the letter--read it for yourself."
He passed Phyllis's letter across the small round dining-table. His
guest took it and read it carefully through.
"How old is the young lady?" he asked.
"Twenty-three!"
"And the boy?"
"Twenty-one."
"Orphans, I think you said?"
"Orphans and relationless."
"Well off?"
"Moderately."
Duncombe leaned back in his chair and sipped his port thoughtfully.
"It is an extraordinary situation!" he remarked.
"Extraordinary indeed," his friend assented. "But so far as I am
concerned you can see how I am fixed. I am older than either of them,
but I have always been their nearest neighbor and their most intimate
friend. If ever they have needed advice they have come to me for it. If
ever I have needed a day's shooting for myself or a friend I have gone
to them. This Continental tour of theirs we discussed and planned out,
months beforehand. If my misfortune had not come on just when it did I
should have gone with them, and even up to the last we hoped that I
might be able to go to Paris with Phyllis."
Duncombe nodded.
"Tell me about the boy," he said.
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