“Shall I find the past again, the past again?”
“Ay, poor soul, that we shall, God willing. You and I, we will hunt it together.”
He looked at her, and gave her his hand. “I will go with you. Your face belongs to the past, so does your voice.”
He then inquired, rather abruptly, had she any children. She smiled.
“Ay, that I have, the loveliest little boy you ever saw. When you are as you used to be, you will be his doctor, won't you?”
“Yes, I will nurse him, and you will help me find the past.”
Phoebe then begged Staines to be ready to start at six in the morning. She and Dick would take him up on their way.
While she was talking to him the doctor slipped out, and to tell the truth he went to consult with another authority, whether he should take this opportunity of telling Staines that he had money and jewels at the bank: he himself was half inclined to do so; but the other, who had not seen Phoebe's face, advised him to do nothing of the kind. “They are always short of money, these colonial farmers,” said he; “she would get every shilling out of him.”
“Most would; but this is such an honest face.”
“Well, but she is a mother, you say.”