That Henshaw's object was more or less disreputable could not be doubted,
and to Gifford the amazing and troubling part of it was that Edith
Morriston, the very last woman he would have suspected of consenting to
such a course, who had professed an absolute dislike and repugnance to
Henshaw, and fear of his annoying presence, should be meeting him thus
willingly. Had he not seen them with his own eyes he would have scoffed
at the idea as something inconceivable.
Now what was he to do? For it was clear that, justified or not as he
might be thought in interfering in matters which did not concern him,
something must be done. The one obvious course which it seemed he ought
to take was to give Richard Morriston a hint of what was on foot, if not
a stronger and more explicit statement. For that Morriston could be privy
to the correspondence between his sister and Henshaw was quite unlikely.
If anything underhand was going on, if Henshaw was holding some threat
over the girl or pursuing her with unwelcome attentions her brother, as
her natural guardian, should be warned. That seemed to Gifford his
manifest duty.
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