His sister would not hear him. She burst forth again on the madness, the interference, the intolerable duplicity of Caroline.
“Harriet, you must listen. My dear, you must stop crying. I have something quite important to say.”
“I shall not stop crying,” said she. But in time, finding that he would not speak to her, she did stop.
“Remember that Miss Abbott has done us no harm. She said nothing to him about the matter. He assumes that she is working with us: I gathered that.”
“Well, she isn’t.”
“Yes; but if you’re careful she may be. I interpret her behaviour thus: She went to see him, honestly intending to get the child away. In the note she left me she says so, and I don’t believe she’d lie.”
“I do.”
“When she got there, there was some pretty domestic scene between him and the baby, and she has got swept off in a gush of sentimentalism. Before very long, if I know anything about psychology, there will be a reaction. She’ll be swept back.”
“I don’t understand your long words. Say plainly—”
“When she’s swept back, she’ll be invaluable. For she has made quite an impression on him. He thinks her so nice with the baby. You know, she washed it for him.”