“That relationship has been the biggest factor in your life, of course.”
“Yes.” She paused, and then in a tone resolutely matter-of-fact, said: “I think perhaps I won’t talk about that now. But I know just as well as you do that in the course of nature, those particular links can only be expected to endure for a certain number of years. They’re breaking now, for me, and it means that part of my life goes too.”
He could not contradict her.
“Is Adrian any use?”
“Poor Adrian! He says now that he and I must keep together, and make a home for one another. He wants to comfort me, and he knows Father would be glad; but you can see for yourself that it wouldn’t be fair to take him at his word. Perhaps we may be together for a little while—till things have worn off a little bit, for him. Adrian is emotional, isn’t he? I don’t know what he’ll do, eventually.”
The recollection of Adrian’s promise to the Canon, that he would relinquish his work, was evidently not a factor that Lucilla took into serious consideration. By tacit agreement neither of them alluded to it.
“Valeria will hardly be able to come home, I suppose?”
“Oh, no. It’s out of the question. She couldn’t leave the two babies, nor very well bring them with her.”
“Flora?”
Already, Owen realized with faint surprise, he had come to remember Flora’s corporeal existence only by an effort. He could scarcely feel her to be less separated from the realities of life than one who had died in youth, and been long forgotten.