Dr. Martineau seemed to reflect. Then realizing that this was a mistake, he said: “He told me the essential facts.”
The poor lady breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad,” she said simply. She repeated, “Yes, I’m glad. It makes things easier now.”
Dr. Martineau looked his enquiry.
“She wants to come and see him.”
“Here?”
“Here! And Helen here! And the servants noticing everything! I’ve never met her. Never set eyes on her. For all I know she may want to make a scene.” There was infinite dismay in her voice.
Dr. Martineau was grave. “You would rather not receive her?”
“I don’t want to refuse her. I don’t want even to seem heartless. I understand, of course, she has a sort of claim.” She sobbed her reluctant admission. “I know it. I know.... There was much between them.”
Dr. Martineau pressed the limp hand upon the little tea table. “I understand, dear lady,” he said. “I understand. Now ... suppose I were to write to her and arrange—I do not see that you need be put to the pain of meeting her. Suppose I were to meet her here myself?
“If you COULD!”