"Father had a very bad night. He's asleep now."
"There's something on to-night, isn't there?" he asked.
"There's a service," Amy answered shortly.
"Father oughtn't to go," he went on. "I suppose your friend Thurston
can manage."
Amy looked at him. "Father's got to go. It's very important."
"Oh, of course, if you want to kill father with all your beastly
services--" he broke in furiously.
"It won't be--" Amy began, and then, as though she did not trust
herself to continue, got up and left the room.
"Mother," he said, "why on earth don't you do something?"
"I, dear?" she looked at him placidly. "In what way?"
"They're killing father between them with all these services and the
rest of the nonsense."
"Your father doesn't listen to anything I say, dear."
"He ought to go away for a long rest."
"Well, dear, perhaps he will soon. You know I have nothing to do
with the Chapel. That was settled years ago. I wouldn't interfere
for a great deal."
Martin turned fiercely upon her saying:
"Mother, don't you care?"
"Care, dear?"
"Yes, about father--his living and getting well again and being
happy as he used to be.
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