Nancy uttered a mere ‘Yes.’ She was looking at Tarrant’s letter on the side-table, and wishing to be alone that she might read it again.
‘In the meantime,’ Samuel pursued, ‘whatever difficulty arises, confide it to me. Probably you will wish to tell me more before long; you know that I am not unworthy to be your adviser. And so let us shake hands, in sign of genuine friendship.’
Nancy gave her fingers, which felt very cold upon Barmby’s warm, moist palm.
‘This conversation has been trying to you,’ he said, ‘but relief of mind will soon follow. If anything occurs to me that may help to soothe you, I will write.’
‘Thank you.’
‘At the beginning of our interview you didn’t think it would end like this?’
There was something of the boy in Samuel, perhaps the wholesomest part of him. Having manifested his admirable qualities, he felt a light-hearted pleasure in asking for renewed assurance of the good opinion he had earned.
‘I hardly cared,’ said Nancy, as she rose with a sigh of weariness.
‘But you have got over that. You will be quite cheerful now?’
‘In time, no doubt.’