'Charlie has mentioned him,' said the other.
'You know who he is, then,' said Sybil. 'Shortly before I left England he proposed to me. I refused him. I don't want him to come here; but how is it possible for me to stop him?'
She faced about, and stood opposite the elder woman.
'What am I to do?' she asked. 'He is strong, masterful; I am afraid of him, and it will take a great deal of nervous force out of me. Now, I can't spare that.'
She paused a moment.
'Perhaps I had better say straight out what I mean,' she said. 'I am having rather a hard time as it is; that I take on myself very willingly. But every day leaves me more and more tired when the need for playing up is over. But it is worth it: I should be a very feeble creature if I did not feel that. Because he is getting better, is he not?'
Mrs. Brancepeth laid her hand on Sybil.
'Every day I thank God for what you are doing,' she said, 'and I thank you; but—but I suppose I have been more sanguine than I should. Is there no chance for Charlie?'
Sybil threw her arms out with a hopeless gesture.
'I don't know—literally I don't know. I like him so much that I can't offer him only liking; and I don't know that I have anything more to offer him. It is all very difficult. I don't suppose there is a woman in the world who knows herself so badly as I do. And I used to think I was so decisive, so clear cut. What is happening to me?'