“You think something will happen? Sometimes these things die of themselves, you know.”
“Sometimes. But this won’t. I can’t bear to think of it. You know, one gets very fond of Bill.”
I knew.
But I doubt if anyone else would have added, as Nancy did, “And I’m so sorry for her.”
“Why?” said Christopher, who was beside her as usual. He was one of the people who did not admire Mrs. Harter.
“Well, she is married, isn’t she?” Mrs. Fazackerly suggested. “I suppose things may be rather difficult, perhaps, when Mr. Harter comes to England.”
One could not help remembering that Mrs. Fazackerly had the best of reasons for understanding how difficult things could be made by the return of a husband, even although the late Mr. Fazackerly had had no serious grievances to provoke his habits of violence.
“I know nothing about Mr. Harter,” said Christopher, “but if he’s coming here, mark my words, there’ll be trouble.”
Mrs. Fazackerly may or may not have marked Christopher’s words—probably she did—but it was quite evident enough without them that the arrival of Harter in Cross Loman would precipitate a crisis.
“Is he coming here?” I asked.