“And go straight to perdition!” she said bitterly.
He winced a little.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to make excuses for my own mother,” he remarked, with the quiet dignity that was already winning his name in the Law Courts, side by side with his gift for light satire. “You cannot but know in your heart just how far removed her outlook on the world is from ours.”
She wanted to ask him if any outlook gave one woman the right to insult another at her pleasure, but she remembered Mrs. Hermon probably did not realise that she would have the fineness to see the insult, and was not even aware that she had been insulting.
“I should like you to know my father,” he went on. “He is a very understanding man.”
“But surely he…”
“No; he knew nothing about it. When my mother spoke to him he asked her not to interfere.”
“Ah!”
For a few swift moments the generous treatment called to her own generosity, and for the sake of the understanding father she was almost ready to let go the straw. Only then again came the recollection of the uncle, and his impudent offer to substitute himself, and make amends at the same time; and again the smouldering fires leaped up, fed by the strong, protecting touch of the hand upon hers.
“I think Hal was right,” Alymer was saying. “If my companionship, just to run down and see how you are, wherever you may be, will help to cheer you up and amuse you, there is no reason why I shouldn’t manage it.”