Sophy crept away guiltily up stairs; and she put her arm through
his, and led him into the dining-room, where a luxurious supper was
spread for him.
"You know all about it, then?" said Mrs. Bolton, as he threw himself
into a chair by the fireside, looking utterly bowed down and wretched.
"Yes," he answered. "Oh! aunt, could you do nothing for her? Could you
not prevent it? It is a miserable thing for a man to come back to."
"I have done all I could," she replied, hesitatingly. "I have been quite
wretched about it myself; but what could I do? I told your friend Mr.
Warden there was nothing in reason I would refuse to do; but his ideas
were so impracticable they could not be carried out."
"What were they?" he asked.
"Positively that I should abstain altogether myself," she said; "and not
only that, but I must refuse it to my guests, and have nothing of the
kind in my house; not even those choice wines your uncle bought, Neither
wine for myself nor ale for my servants! It was quite out of the
question, you know. Mr. Warden was meddlesome to the very verge of
impertinence about it, until I was compelled to give up inviting him to
my house.
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