“And they wished you to leave?” Jervis said wonderingly.
“Yes; it’s right I should. It’s quite right,” repeated Marian. “I’m not wanted longer. If I would have taken money they would have given me plenty; but I couldn’t—couldn’t.”
Hannah had not yet returned. Jervis leaned a little forward, and said softly—
“Polly, you’ve not seen or heard anything of your own child all these weeks?”
Marian was taken by surprise. She breathed hard, staring at Jervis.
“My child—Joan!” she panted.
“Is the name Joan? You wouldn’t tell me that. Only you hoped to see her some time or other, now you’re in England. I thought perhaps you’d have had the chance.”
Marian passed one hand with a hasty nervous motion over her mouth, a curious sound—half sob, half laugh—escaping her lips.
“I’ve seen her. Yes, you’re guessing rightly. I told you I couldn’t wait much longer, didn’t I? But it was a queer meeting. She didn’t know me, or love me, or want me. And that’s all over!”
“What is over, Polly?”