"Exactly. It is so idiotic and provoking, and, as a matter of absolute fact, it was because I always got ill at anything of that sort that they couldn't let me go on at the hospital any more—my father and stepmother, I mean."
"I didn't know you had a stepmother."
"I've had her about four years," Grace informed him.
"Do you like her?" Trevellyan asked bluntly.
"Very much indeed. She's only a few years older than I am, and she lets me call her Marjory. She's so nice and pretty and merry."
It was evident that Miss Jones was not a person to make capital out of circumstances.
When they started again, Trevellyan said gently: "You'd better take my arm, if you will. It's heavy going along this field."
It was, and an incessant sound of splashing told Grace that she was almost in the ditch.
"I think I can manage," she said breathlessly. "I'm afraid of the light going out, and it's easier to hold in both hands."
Trevellyan said nothing, but presently Grace felt him take hold of the lamp.