“And he is not?”
“He’s lost,” said Eaton bitterly. “The greatest blessing which could happen to this house would be for him to be thrown back into the gang. He’d live a few years then, and so would his wife. As it is he is killing both. As for poor Julia—ah! I should be less than man, loving her as I do, if I did not determine to throw all thoughts of caste aside and marry her, and get her away as soon as I can.”
“I wish she were not so nice,” said Mrs Otway thoughtfully.
“Why?”
“Because, like the silly, stupid woman I am, I can’t help sympathising with you both.”
“I knew you did in your heart,” cried Eaton joyfully.
“Gently, gently, my dear boy,” continued Mrs Otway. “I may sympathise with the enemy, but I have to fight him all the same. Have you spoken to the young lady—definitely offered marriage?”
“No, not yet.”
“But you’ve taught her to love you?”
“I don’t know—yet—”