"Cousin Elsbeth, I care more for Alwynne than for anything else in the world. You know that. Also, though you'll call me a conceited ass, I believe I know your ewe-lamb ten thousand times better than you do. And I've simply got to sit tight for a bit. The less she sees of me at present, the more she'll think of me—in two senses. If I can make her miss me, it'll be a profitable exile. Oh, you dear, worried woman," he cried, laughing at her intent face, "do you think I want to go away from Alwynne? Nevertheless—where's the time-table?"
She rose and fetched it, and gave it him, without a word.
He ran his finger down the page.
"There's a four o'clock," he announced.
"If only I could do something," mused Elsbeth.
He smiled at her gratefully.
"You're a pretty staunch friend," he said. "What more can one ask?"
"Oh, but I ought to think of something," she said impatiently. "I sit here and let you go—I see two people's lives being spoiled—for the want of a——"
"What?"
"That's it! What? What can I do? Nothing, nothing, nothing. Oh, Roger, it's hard. It's very hard to see people you love unhappy, and not to be able to help them. It's the hardest thing I know. It would be such happiness to be allowed to bear things for them. But to watch.... It's harder for us than for men, you know—we're such born meddlers. We think it's our mission to put things to rights."