His face changed. He looked at her with surprise and commiseration in his eyes.
"Oh, I see," he said quietly. "I didn't understand."
He felt that it would be indecorous for him to ask this old lady, as he considered her, whether she really cared for the husband he had always found so unpleasant, but he could in no way account for her refusing to take the obvious course.
She saw his perplexity and went straight to the point. "You see," she said, "I know what you are thinking, but I've known Mr. Walbridge for a long time, and I know that he couldn't possibly be happy with a woman as selfish and self-centred as Mrs. Crichell."
"Then you want him to be happy?" He spoke very gravely, his voice sounding like that of a man very much older than himself.
She was grateful to him for not showing any surprise at her attitude.
"Oh, yes. I should like him to be happy. You're too young to understand, Oliver. I hope you never will understand. But I'm not at all angry with him, and I've always disliked Mrs. Crichell very much."
"So have I. Couldn't bear her, and neither could my mother. But why did you send for me, Mrs. Walbridge? I'll do any mortal thing for you, but the better I understand, the more useful I shall be."
"Oh, I just want you to stand up for me when they all attack me, and try to make me divorce him."
"I see. I certainly think the choice ought to be yours. But," he added, "I don't agree with you. I—I think you're making a mistake. By the way, has the lady any money?"