“If she loved a man, she would easily see heroic qualities in him. She could not love a man who was without them; but that does not mean he need actually be a hero by any means.”
She longed to say more, but was diffident of doing greater harm than good. At last she ventured:
“I have sometimes thought she has a warm corner in her heart for you, Dudley.”
“For me!...” He gave a low, harsh laugh for very misery. “No; she despises me. She has done for some time. I’m sorry. I’d change it if I could, but it’s too late now.”
Hal moved towards the door.
“It is rather a slur on Ethel to suggest that she could possibly despise Basil’s best friend. Don’t let an idea like that take root, Dudley. ‘Lookers on see most of the game,’ you know, and what I have seen has suggested quite differently. Good-night.”
“Good-night. Try to sleep. I’ll take you to Charing Cross myself.”
The next morning Hal started off alone, to find her way to Lorraine’s hiding-place, and give her what comfort of friendship she could.
And all the time she asked herself with harried thoughts, “Who has brought this trouble into Lorraine’s life?”
And at the back of her mind was the dread premonition “Was it indeed Alymer Hermon?”