He felt an immense pity and tenderness for her, sitting there as still as a mouse. He would have liked to put his arm around her and draw her to him, and soothe her trouble, which she should have sobbed out on his shoulder as she had done with the little troubles of her childhood. But that unknown quantity in her restrained him. He knew instinctively that she would reject him as the consoler of this trouble. He was the cause of it in her poor wounded groping little mind.
Presently she roused herself and took up an illustrated paper, which she glanced through, saying as she did so, in a colourless voice: "Shall we be able to get some tea at Ganton? I've got rather a headache."
"Have you, my darling?" he said tenderly. "Yes, we shall have five minutes there. Haven't you any phenacetin in your bag?"
"Yes; but it isn't as bad as that," she said. "I'll take some when I get home, if it's worse."
"Give me a kiss, my little B," he said. "You do love your old Daddy, don't you?"
She kissed him obediently. "Yes, of course," she said, and returned to her paper.
They spoke little after that until they reached the station for Abington. If he said anything she replied to it, and sometimes she made a remark herself. But there was never anything like conversation between them. He was in deep trouble about her all the time, and could never afterwards look out on certain landmarks of that journey without inwardly flinching. He would not try to comfort her again. He knew that was beyond his power. She must get used to it first; and nobody could help her. And he would not bother her by talking; just a few words now and then were as necessary to her as to him.
Only Caroline had come to meet them. Beatrix clung to her a little as she kissed her, but that was all the sign she made, and she exerted herself a little more than she had done to talk naturally, until they reached home.
Barbara and Bunting were in front of the house as they came up. After a sharp glance at her and their father, they greeted her with the usual affection that this family habitually showed to one another, and both said that they were glad to see her home again, as if they meant it. Miss Waterhouse was behind them, and said: "You look pale, B darling. Hadn't you better go straight to your room and lie down?"
She went upstairs with her. Barbara and Bunting, with a glance at one another, took themselves off. Caroline followed her father into the library.