I turned at something in her voice, and got a moon light gleam of tears upon her face.
“Could she have helped?” she asked abruptly.
“She?”
“That woman.”
“My God!” I cried, “helped! Those—things don’t help!”
“Tell me again what I ought to do,” she said after a silence.
I went over the plans I had made for communicating, and the things I thought she might do. I had given her the address of a solicitor she might put some trust in.
“But you must act for yourself,” I insisted.
“Roughly,” I said, “it’s a scramble. You must get what you can for us, and follow as you can.”
She nodded.