“I—I don’t quite know—yet.”
He looked at his watch.
“Look here. I may take the privilege of an old fogey and an old friend, mayn’t I? Let me take you to one of the restaurants—one of the quiet ones,” he went on hastily, as she drew herself up, “where we can talk over the situation, and I may be able to help you to decide upon something.”
“Thank you very much, but——”
“Come, come, you’ve dined with me often enough before.”
“With Gerard, yes. But not without him.”
“Well, do you mean to give up your friends altogether? To live the life of a nun?”
Audrey had recovered her full faculties, and she answered him promptly and steadily:—
“No. I don’t mean to lead the life of a nun, but the life of a widow,” she said. “While Gerard is in prison I’m going to remain in mourning for him, and when he comes back to me I’m going to—to be alive once more.”
“But in the meantime,” urged Mr. Candover gently, “even though you don’t feel that life is worth living, you must live, you know. And the best way to please Gerard is to keep in good health and in good spirits. I don’t mean uproariously high spirits, but the natural ones of youth and beauty. May I ask where you’re going now?”