To Bob, the moment was one of awed surprise, for the commanding, black-robed figure differed from all his preconceptions, as far as he had any, of Jennie's mother. Advancing rapidly into the room, she took his right hand in hers, laying her left on his head as if in benediction.
"So you're my Jennie's husband. I hope you're a good man, for you've found a good woman. Be loving to each other. The time is coming when love is all that will survive. Let me look at you."
He stood off, smiling, while she made her inspection.
"Love is all there is, anyhow, don't you think, Mrs. Follett?"
"Yes; but it gets no chance in this world."
"Or it is the only thing that does get a chance?"
"It may be the only thing that does get a chance, but that chance is small. There's no hope for the world. Don't think there is, because you'll be disappointed. Each time your disappointment is worse than the last, till you end in despair."
It was the strain Jennie felt obliged to interrupt.
"Momma, Mr. Collingham is going to see Teddy. Don't you want him to take a message?"
"Only the message I've given him myself—that it's only a little way over, and that one of two things must happen then. It will either be sleep, in which nothing will matter, or it will be life, in which he'll be free—understood—supported—instead of being beaten and crushed and mangled, as everyone is here. Tell him that."