Charlie shrugged his shoulders. “There’s something about her... I don’t know—” He lifted his nostrils fastidiously and gazed at the fire. “There’s not many women knocking about like her... She gets hold of you. She’s nothing at all for about six months at a stretch, and then she has one minute of the grand style... That’s the sort of woman she is. Understand? But I expect you don’t know her as we do.”
“Oh yes, I understand,” said Edwin. “She must be tremendously fond of the kid.”
“You bet she is! Absolute passion. What sort is he?”
“Oh! He’s all right. But I’ve never seen them together, and I never thought she was so particularly keen on him.”
“Don’t you make any mistake,” said Charlie loftily. “I believe women often are like that about an only child when they’ve had a rough time. And by the look of her she must have had a pretty rough time. I’ve never made out why she married that swine, and I don’t think anyone else has either.”
“Did you know him?” Edwin asked, with sudden eagerness.
“Not a bit. But I’ve sort of understood he was a regular outsider. Do you know how long she’s been a widow?”
“No,” said Edwin. “I’ve barely seen her.”
At these words he became so constrained, and so suspicious of the look on his own face, that he rose abruptly and began to walk about the room.
“What’s the matter?” demanded Charlie. “Got pins and needles?”