Lucy sobbed some inarticulate words into her handkerchief, and abruptly Frances leaned forward. She spoke in a low tone, very urgently, to Arthur.
“Let her run after Nell and fetch her back!” she said.
She could not have said exactly what prompted the request. It was not primarily pity for either of the two girls. It was the man himself who held her attention at that moment, and an overwhelming desire to move that iron will out of its undeviating course.
But his reception of her interference was disconcerting. Instead of displaying the opposition she had anticipated, he spoke again to the still sobbing girl.
“Dry your eyes, you silly girl, and go tell Nell to come back!”
Lucy looked up with a gasp of sheer amazement, and Frances found herself gasping too at the utter unexpectedness of his action. Arthur’s face wore a cynical expression, but he showed no sign of impatience. “Go on!” he said. “Go and fetch her back and be quick about it!”
Lucy got up and slipped from the room.
“Miss Thorold, may I give you some ham?” said Arthur.
Their eyes met, and she caught a quizzical gleam in his that sent an odd feeling as of tension relaxed through her.
“Thank you,” she said.