“You oughtn’t to need help from any one for that”; and she knew there was genuine admiration in his voice. “You never look anything but young. I suppose it is temperament.”
“Temperatment doesn’t erase lines,” with a little sad smile.
“Perhaps not, but it makes them, in some way, suit you; and they add to the character in a face.”
“It is sweet of you to say so, Alymer, but it sounds a fairy tale. I don’t so very much mind growing old, if only it were not so… empty-handed.”
“But surely you have so much!”
“Not very much that counts. Anyhow, I hope some day you will have a great deal more.”
“You are depressed. You must really get away somewhere at once.”
He was grandfatherly now, the mood she always loved and laughed at, and her pulses quickened to it. He placed one of his large, strong-looking hand over hers—it covered them both out of sight—and he leaned a little nearer as he said:
“I can see I shall have to take the ordering of it all. You have done worlds for me. Now I shall have to take you in hand.”
A harsh expression crossed her face for a moment, thinking of what his mother had written her.