“We are sorry for you,” murmured Rosie.
“And here I am, alone as it were,” Ilam continued. “What am I to do? What can a man do by himself? I’ve got a nurse. I can get fifty nurses, if necessary. And there are the servants. But what are nurses and servants? You understand my position, don’t you?”
“Yes, quite,” said Pauline.
They were partaking of a second tea in the Ilam drawing-room. The appetite of Rosie for cakes seemed unimpaired, though she did her best to hide it, and to pretend that she was only eating cakes out of politeness.
Ilam swallowed his tea in great gulps.
“I’m utterly unnerved,” he said.
“You must be,” said Rosie kindly.
“There’s a vast amount of superintendence to do in the City, as you may guess. But what am I fit for, with my poor old mother lying up there? You can’t fancy what she was to me. I depended on her for everything—everything.”
And then tears showed themselves in the little eyes of Josephus Ilam. The appearance of those tears in the eyes of a great strong man made Rosie feel very uncomfortable, so much so, that she was obliged to look out of the window.
“I wish we could help you,” said Pauline, after a pause.