“Their trains are always late,” said Phipps, with his fingers along the edge of his collar. Dangle, you must understand, was a sub-editor and reviewer, and his pride was to be Thomas Plantagenet’s intellectual companion. Widgery, the big man, was manager of a bank and a mighty golfer, and his conception of his relations to her never came into his mind without those charming old lines, “Douglas, Douglas, tender and true,” falling hard upon its heels. His name was Douglas-Douglas Widgery. And Phipps, Phipps was a medical student still, and he felt that he laid his heart at her feet, the heart of a man of the world. She was kind to them all in her way, and insisted on their being friends together, in spite of a disposition to reciprocal criticism they displayed. Dangle thought Widgery a Philistine, appreciating but coarsely the merits of “A Soul Untrammelled,” and Widgery thought Dangle lacked humanity—would talk insincerely to say a clever thing. Both Dangle and Widgery thought Phipps a bit of a cub, and Phipps thought both Dangle and Widgery a couple of Thundering Bounders. “They would have got to Chichester in time for lunch,” said Dangle, in the train. “After, perhaps. And there’s no sufficient place in the road. So soon as we get there, Phipps must inquire at the chief hotels to see if any one answering to her description has lunched there.” “Oh, _I’ll_ inquire,” said Phipps. “Willingly. I suppose you and Widgery will just hang about—” He saw an expression of pain on Mrs. Milton’s gentle face, and stopped abruptly. “No,” said Dangle, “we shan’t _hang about_, as you put it. There are two places in Chichester where tourists might go—the cathedral and a remarkably fine museum. I shall go to the cathedral and make an inquiry or so, while Widgery—” “The museum. Very well. And after that there’s a little thing or two I’ve thought of myself,” said Widgery. To begin with they took Mrs. Milton in a kind of procession to the Red Hotel and established her there with some tea. “You are so kind to me,” she said. “All of you.” They signified that it was nothing, and dispersed to their inquiries. By six they returned, their zeal a little damped, without news. Widgery came back with Dangle. Phipps was the last to return. “You’re quite sure,” said Widgery, “that there isn’t any flaw in that inference of yours?” “Quite,” said Dangle, rather shortly. “Of course,” said Widgery, “their starting from Midhurst on the Chichester road doesn’t absolutely bind them not to change their minds.” “My dear fellow!—It does. Really it does. You must allow me to have enough intelligence to think of cross-roads. Really you must. There aren’t any cross-roads to tempt them. Would they turn aside here? No. Would they turn there? Many more things are inevitable than you fancy.” “We shall see at once,” said Widgery, at the window. “Here comes Phipps. For my own part—”