"What a fight he has made!" The ready enthusiasm rang in the girl's clear voice. Then her tone changed as she continued. "Yes," she said thoughtfully, "Marion is lucky to have such friends as you and Russell Vanbrugh."
"And you yourself, Miss Maylands."
"I? Oh, I do not count. What can a woman do on days like these? I can only stay here and try to make her feel that I am a comfortable pillow for her to lay her head upon, when she is entirely worn out. Poor Marion! She is the bravest woman I ever knew. But then—"
She stopped, hesitating, and Brett, who was almost too much excited to follow all the words she spoke, was suddenly aware that she had not finished the sentence.
"What were you going to say?" he asked, struggling desperately to remember what she had said already.
"I hardly ought—I suppose," objected Dolly. "But then—what can it matter? He is sure to be found guilty, is he not?"
"Quite sure," Brett answered slowly.
"Well then—Marion must feel that when this last agony is over she will have much more peace in her life than she has enjoyed for a long time. I wonder whether it is very wrong to say such things."
"Wrong? Why? We all think them, I am sure. At least, you and Vanbrugh and I do. As for society, I do not know what it thinks. I have not had time to ask, nor time to care, for that matter."
"I suppose everybody sympathises with Marion as we do."