Tobias shook the other man’s hand. Good God, Mr. Willaby sounded miserable as well. Tobias had convinced himself that no one had interpreted Alice’s flirtations as such – the only way he could bear what would be a scourging humiliation in any other reading – and he was therefore able to fully devote his attentions to this strange melancholy he sensed in the other. Was it the marriage? Rose had seemed a sensible lass. But appearances could deceive, as he now well knew. And who knew how she had been affected?

“Ah yes, I believe so. How is Rose?” he asked, perhaps slightly sadistically. In his defense, it was the polite thing to ask.