"Oh, Alexander! Oh, poor soul!" Clara stood in the middle of the room, seeing the desolation of that man without a mate. "What will he do?" She set the plates down gently. "There'll be nobody to take care of him," she said.
"We could ask him to come here."
"We could."
"I'll write to him."
"There's no post till Monday."
"Time enough."
"Let him be, let him be!" Rutherford said. "He's a poor little stick of a man, and he's here too often. Why can I never have the house to myself?"
"It's a long time since he has been here, Jim." She had one of his hands in hers. "Ask him, Alexander. And tell him to bring that girl of his, if he will."
"Need we have the girl?"
"He'll be happier with her."