"Of course I scold you," said Jeff. "I want to see you happy. I want to see you rid of me and beginning your life all over, so far as you can. You're not the sort to live alone. It's an outrage against nature. A woman like you—"
But Esther never discovered what he meant by "a woman like you." He had gone a little further than her brain would take her. Did he mean a woman altogether charming, like her—or? She dropped the inquiry very soon, because it seemed to lead nowhere and it was pleasanter to think the things that do not worry one.
Jeff remembered afterward that he had known from the beginning of the walk with her that they should meet all Addington. But it was not the Addington he had irritably dreaded. It was Lydia. His heart died as he saw her coming, and his brain called on every reserve within him to keep Esther from knowing that here was his heart's lady, this brave creature whose honour was untainted, who had a woman's daring and a man's endurance. He even, after that first alarm of a glance, held his eyes from seeing her and he kept on scolding Esther.
"What's the use," he said, "talking like that?" And then his mind told him there must be no confusion in what he said. He was defending Lydia. He was pulling over her the green leaves of secrecy. "I advise you," he said, "to get away from here. Get away from Madame Beattie—get away from grandmother—" Lydia was very near now. He felt he could afford to see her. "Ah, Lydia!" he said casually, and took off his hat.
They were past her, but not before Esther had asked, in answer:
"Where shall we go? I mean—" she caught herself up from her wilful stumbling—"where could I go—alone?"
They were at her own gate, and Jeff stopped with her. Since they left Lydia he had held his hat in his hand, and Esther, looking up at him saw that he had paled under his tan. The merciless woman in her took stock of that, rejoicing. Jeff smiled at her faintly, he was so infinitely glad to leave her.
"We must think," he said. "You must think. Esther, about money, I'll try—I don't know yet what I can earn—but we'll see. Oh, hang it! these things can't be said."
He turned upon the words and strode off and Esther, without looking after him, went in and at once upstairs.
"Good girl!" Madame Beattie called to her, from her room. "Well begun is half done."