Mary rose. “Then that’s settled, and we needn’t keep Captain Alec waiting any longer.”
“How do you know that I sha’n’t cheat you?” he asked.
“I don’t know how I know that,” Mary admitted. “But I do know it. And I want to tell you—”
She suddenly felt embarrassed under his gaze; her cheeks flushed, but she went on resolutely:
“To tell you how glad, how happy, I am that it all ends like this; that the poor old man is free of his fancies and his fears, beyond both our pity and our laughter.”
“Aye, he’s earned rest, if there is to be rest for any of us!”
“And you can rest, too. And you can laugh with us, and not at us. Isn’t that, after all, a more human sort of laughter?”
She was smiling still as she gave him her hand, but he saw that tears stood in her eyes. The next instant she gave a little sob.
“Doctor Mary!” he exclaimed in rueful expostulation.
“No, no, how stupid you are!” She laughed through her sob. “It’s not unhappiness!” She pressed his hand tightly for an instant and then walked quickly out of the house, calling back to him, “Don’t come, please don’t come. I’d rather go to Captain Alec by myself.”