Peter was thanked for the revelations, which had been a grievous
effort to him, and dismissed. My father sat still in great distress
and perplexity, asking me whether Clarence had ever told me anything
of this, and I had barely time to answer 'No' before Clarence
himself came in, from what Peter called his language-master. He was
taking lessons in French and Spanish, finding a knowledge of these
useful in business. To his extreme distress, my father fell on him
at once, demanding what he knew of the way Griffith was spending his
time, 'coming home at all sorts of hours in a disreputable
condition. No prevarication, sir,' he added, as the only too
familiar look of consternation and bewilderment came over Clarence's
face. 'You are doing your brother no good by conniving at his
conduct. Speak truth, if you can,' he added, with more cruelty than
he knew, in his own suffering.
'Sir,' gasped Clarence, 'I know Griff often comes home after I am in
bed, but I do not know the exact time, nor anything more.'
'Is this all you can tell me? Really all?'
'All I know--that is--of my own knowledge,' said Clarence,
recovering a little, but still unable to answer without hesitation,
which vexed my father.
'What do you mean by that? Do you hear nothing?'
'I am afraid,' said Clarence, 'that I do not see as much of him as I
had hoped.
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