“Yes; how soon shall I have to turn out of my poor old home?”
“Don’t talk about it now, Sarah,” said Claude gently. “It will be terribly painful for you, I know.”
“Painful!” said the woman, with a bitter laugh, “to go out once more into the cruel world. But a way will open,” she added to herself; “the time will come.”
Her face grew more stony of aspect moment by moment, as she gazed through her nearly closed eyelids straight before her, heedless of the fact that Claude had risen from her knees, and was holding one of her hands.
“Don’t talk of the world so bitterly, Sarah, dear,” said Claude gently. “I must go now.”
“Yes,” said the woman, in a harsh voice.
“Mary is sitting with papa till I go back, or she would have come with me. She sent her kindest and most sympathetic wishes to you. She is coming to see you soon.”
“Yes,” said the woman again, in the same strange, harsh way.
“You know you have many friends and well-wishers who will be only too glad to help you.”
“Yes; Norman Gartram, whose first thought is to turn me out of the home we have shared so long.”