“I know—” she touched her forehead—“that he’s sick up here.”
“Oh, do you? Then I shouldn’t have thought that you’d have—” but she dropped this line to take up another. “Yes, he’s always been so. When he was a boy they were afraid he might be epileptic; and though he never was as bad as that he’s always needed to be taken care of. He can do very wild and foolish things as—as you’ve discovered for yourself.”
Letty felt herself now a little shameful lump of misery. This woman was so experienced, so right. She spoke with a decision and an authority which made love at first sight a fancy to blush at. Letty 198 could say nothing because there was nothing to say, and meanwhile the determined voice went on.
“It’s terrible for a man like him to make such a mistake, because being what he is he can’t grapple with it as a stronger or a coarser man would do.”
But here Letty saw something that might be faintly pleaded in her own defence. “He says he wouldn’t ha’ made the mistake if that—that other girl hadn’t been crazy.”
Barbara drew herself up. “Did he—did he say that?”
“He said something like it. He said she went off the hooks, just like he did himself.” She raised her eyes. “Do you know her, Miss Walbrook?”
“Yes, I know her.”
“She must be an awful fool.”
Barbara prayed for patience. “What—what makes you say so?”