“I don’t suppose he does now he’s ill!”
“Well, Miss Eden’s there.”
“Yes.”
“What will you do with the boy? Shall you take him with you?” asked Southerley, anxiously.
“Not on that cold journey,” she said with a sudden plaintiveness in her tone. “Besides, I’d rather know first how I’m going to be received myself!”
“Well, he can’t be unkind to you now!”
It was evident that the recollection of former unkindness was still so strong in the unhappy woman that she shrank from the approaching ordeal.
“N-o-o-o,” she said faintly, “and at any rate young Mr Bayre will be there—”
“I wish to Heaven I were going to be there!” moaned Southerley.
She drew herself up, looking rather frightened.