“Oh, you are! It is so good to hold your hand. I feel you won’t desert me; I am so powerless myself.”
They talked a little longer, then she was reminded that he had come a journey and needed food.
“Who is that woman?” he asked, lowering his voice.
“Mrs. Bolt? She has, you know, the other half of the house. There are corresponding rooms on each side, and she lets us this half. She has been very good indeed to me through it all. I don’t know what I should have done these last days without her. She has made meals and seen to the children. I was ashamed to give her so much trouble.”
Kingcote did not reply to this. He merely said: “Then it won’t be necessary for her to come here?”
“Oh no.” She understood his desire to be alone. “I will get the tea myself; I can do it quite well. It’s all ready.”
She moved about and laid the table, letting her eyes rest upon her brother very often, trustfully and rather timidly. She had always regarded him with something of awe. He belonged to a higher social sphere than that which she had accepted. She attributed to him vast knowledge and ability. It was her fear lest she might do or say anything in his eyes censurable.
“Are the children upstairs?” Kingcote inquired.
“Yes; they have had their tea.”
“You will bring them down afterwards?”