"Dick," she said, "is this a time for quarrelling? Think, Dick."
"Let me go, Mary, such as he are better dead. My God! if you'd only heard."
"I did ... and ... he isn't worth it, Dick." She turned and faced Graeme, who was standing with a rapt look on his face, apparently unconscious of their presence.
"What do you want?" she said with level voice and eyes hard as flint.
Hector's wandering wits came back; for a moment he stood regarding her, and then, recognition dawning, held out his hand. Mary drew back, sweeping her skirts behind her.
Hector laughed, faintly amused. "So you're against me too, are you? You're as dense as Dick. Well, well, the battle's begun already, you and I, Stara, against the world."
"I repeat, what do you want?"
"To see her."
"He shall not, I say. Mary, if you've any respect for Stara's memory, you'll not sanction this outrage. Think what this man's done, think what Stara used to be and is now."
"Hush, Dick." Mary's eyes were fixed on Graeme's face and, more observant than her husband, she saw something there that made her hesitate; for the moment the hatred in her heart was lessened.