“Cheerfully! Oh, I can’t.”
“Yes; you must if you want it to be all right. What man wants to be deluged with tears and complaints? Dear Mrs. Hillier, I’m speaking as a genuine friend. I’m speaking frankly. I’m advising you as I would my own sister. Write to him cheerily, and take an interest in his doings, but not too great. Show less curiosity. Above all, no jealousy, no suspicions. It’s the worst thing in the world.”
“Is it? Go on, dear Mrs. Kellynch. Tell me more.”
“Talk of the children—show interest in them—make him proud of them. There you have an advantage no other woman has. You’re the mother of his children.”
“Of course he does—and he will more, if you do. Show an interest and a pride in it, and you will be what no one else can be to him.”
Mary thought, and seemed to see it. “Go on, go on!” she said, putting out her hand.
“Dear Mrs. Hillier, I have envied you so for that! All these years, I’ve never had that great happiness. At last”—she paused—“I’ll tell you, if you care to know—at last, after ten years, I am going to have my wish.”
“Really! And you are pleased?”
“I’m divinely happy, delighted!”