“James is perfectly right to stick to the conventional type—that is, to a known and proved one. Where shall we go this afternoon?”
“Oh, anywhere—I don’t care—I think I won’t go out,” said Arthur, irresolutely.
“Well, you will have a quiet afternoon,” answered Hugh, glad of the solitude; but even then he paused and retraced his steps.
“Arthur, if this affair of Jem’s worries you—”
“Oh, no, no. It gives me something fresh to think about,” said Arthur, with evident truth. “I’m only—tired.”
“Well, rest then,” said Hugh, with the kind smile that Arthur liked.
Nothing should ever make him thoughtless of Arthur’s comfort; but, unsatisfactory as the conversation had been, there was growing up in Hugh’s mind the conviction that somehow, somewhere, some when, he would have to ask Violante to tell him the truth.