"But it's true! And all her friends have cast her off for marrying him."
"I really can't think how she could. Was it right?"
"I suppose she thought it was: and she had to settle the question for herself. It's not a common case, you know—not like a man mastered by the habit. And the question is now, when he is so different, ought every one to go on punishing him for what he was once? I don't say he will never be overcome again. He may—some day. It's a frightfully hard battle—nobody knows how hard. But what more can he do than he is doing? He has kept straight now for over a year; and I do believe he will conquer in the end. I can't see that he ought to be treated like pariah by all good people. Wouldn't real goodness mean doing all one could to help him? . . . I'm not sneering at religion, Jean!—Only at the sort of sham goodness that—You know what I mean!"
"If one could help him really—"
"Of course one can. Nobody has any business to ask him to dinner, if wine is on table. If he knew, he wouldn't go! They don't have it in their house; and Em—I mean, Miss Lucas—has never tasted anything stronger than water. There's nothing for them but that plan: with his tendencies. He can't be moderate; so he must give up altogether . . . Still, I do think a few friends might call sometimes, and be kind to them, and make a little change for the poor girl; and ask them to afternoon tea. Or even for once, if it wasn't too desperate a self-denial, manage not to have wine on table."
"If my father is willing, I shall be glad enough to call. When do they come?"
"Soon. In a week or two. That queer little red house near the Post-Office belongs to Captain Lucas. He has lost money lately, so they are glad to live there rent-free."
"What is Miss Lucas like?"
"Oh, rather pretty," with would-be indifference. "You'd never guess what a dull life hers has been. I say, Mr. Trevelyan is unconscionably long. We'd better go to meet him. You must keep clear of the cottages; but I can't leave you alone here."
Jean yielded after some hesitation, and they had not far to walk. One turn brought them within view of a figure lounging on the ground, resting against the smooth bole of a large beech.