Don't
you think so, father Sheridan?"
He merely grunted in reply, and sat rubbing the thick hair on the top
of his head with his left hand and looking at the fire. He had given
no sign of being impressed in any manner by her exposure of Mary
Vertrees's character; but his impassivity did not dismay Sibyl--it
was Bibbs whom she desired to impress, and she was content in that
matter.
"I'm sure it was all for the best," she said. "It's over now, and
he knows what she is. In one way I think it was lucky, because,
just hearing a thing that way, a person can tell it's SO--and he
knows I haven't got any ax to grind except his own good and the good
of the family."
Mrs. Sheridan went nervously to the door and stood there, looking
toward the stairway. "I wish--I wish I knew what he was doin',"
she said. "He did look terrible bad. It was like something had
been done to him that was--I don't know what. I never saw anybody
look like he did. He looked--so queer. It was like you'd--"
She called down the hall, "George!"
"Yes'm?"
"Were you up in Mr. Bibbs's room just now?"
"Yes'm. He ring bell; tole me make him fiah in his grate. I done
buil' him nice fiah.
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