“Poor thing!” said Mrs Otway sadly. “But, there, I can’t listen to any more. I am on your mother’s side.”
“And you are beaten, so you may give up. It’s fate. My mother must put up with it. So long as I am happy she will not care. And, besides, who could help loving Julie? Hush!”
There was a tap at the door, and Julia entered.
“Not I, for one,” said Mrs Otway aside, as she rose and held out her hands, kissing the young girl warmly. “Why, my dear, you look quite pale. This poor bruised boy has been worrying you and your mother to death.”
“Indeed, no,” cried Julia eagerly. “Mr Eaton has been so patient all the time, and we were so glad to be able to be of service. Sir Gordon Bourne is in the other room with mamma. May he come in and see you?”
“I shall be very glad,” said Eaton, looking at her fixedly; and Mrs Otway noted the blush and the downcast look that followed.
“Phil’s right. He has won her.”
“He proposes driving you home with him, and taking you out in his boat. He thinks it will help your recovery.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t move yet,” said Eaton quickly.
“I think it would do you good,” said Mrs Otway. “What do you say, Miss Hallam?”