For the future I shall be more humble.
When I heard that name, my surprise so completely mastered me that I sat
self-betrayed to Dr. Wybrow as the man who could answer his question.
In the meanwhile, Sir John took his time to consider, and discovered
that he had never heard of a person named Winterfield. Having
acknowledged his ignorance, in his own eloquent language, he drifted
away to the window-box in the next room, and gravely contemplated Mrs.
Eyrecourt, with her nose buried in flowers.
The doctor turned to me. "Am I wrong, Father Benwell, in supposing that
I had better have addressed myself to _you?"_
I admitted that I knew a gentleman named Winterfield.
Dr. Wybrow got up directly. "Have you a few minutes to spare?" he asked.
It is needless to say that I was at the doctor's disposal. "My house is
close by, and my carriage is at the door," he resumed. "When you feel
inclined to say good-by to our friend Mrs. Eyrecourt, I have something
to say to you which I think you ought to know."
We took our departure at once. Mrs. Eyrecourt (leaving some of the color
of her nose among the flowers) patted me encouragingly with her fan, and
told the doctor that he was forgiven, on the understanding that he would
"never do it again.
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