“I think it is. He and I are great friends. He is away for the moment; but when he comes back, I wish you would let me introduce you to him.”
“Why, Audrey, I know him already. Have you forgotten Hanson’s cottage and our talk about the poachers? A r-remarkably shrewd old file I thought him.”
“So he is. I have such faith in him somehow. Somehow I feel that all will come right when he returns. I do wish he would. It is all so dreadful waiting. Will you tell him about your theory, when he does?”
“Of course I will. Don’t go yet, Audrey.”
She had stopped.
“Yes, Frank, I am going. I feel that every moment taken from your fishing is robbing Hughie of a chance.”
“Audrey—after what you’ve said—poor Hugh—I’ll not be thought a man at his expense—but—are you going to let me hope just a little again?”
“Are you serious, dear? His sister? Think.”
“A m-martyr’s sister—the greater honour mine.”
She could not help a little laugh over the picture of Hugh a martyr.