“Miss Pigot,” I say, “I have a bit of news you might not have heard. Mr. Gillan’s going home for his health. He says he doesn’t dare stay through the monsoons.”
“Is he coming back?” Dr. Valentine asks.
I shrug. “I presume so.”
“When does he leave?” Miss Pigot asks.
“In about two weeks. I think he sails the first week in May.”
Miss Pigot drums her fingers on the arm of her chair. “I suppose he’ll stop in with the Foreign Mission Committee in Edinburgh.”
“No doubt,” Mr. Fish says.
Miss Pigot bites her lip so hard she draws blood, and quickly covers her mouth with a handkerchief.
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