Richmond Briarley had never asked any questions about Esther Powel; she was Glenn’s friend, and that was all.
“I saw Miss Powel,” he said, as he and Glenn sat over their lunch. “I nearly got past before I recognized her. She has changed. She has been ill?”
“No, I think not,” Glenn answered. “She’s been working hard, and she hasn’t been used to work. I am going away on my vacation to-morrow. I’ve been wondering if there wasn’t some nice place, just outside of town, where she might go. She needs the rest, the change.” Glenn Andrews made no secret of his kindly interest. He and Richmond Briarley had long been closely intimate.
“What’s the matter with my yacht? The old thing might sink if it knew there was a woman aboard, but let it sink. It would give you a chance to show your heroism.”
“Would you come along?”
“Oh, no; I might not get ashore. Really I have other plans, but it is easy enough to get a crowd. There’s Mrs. Low and Kent.”
“Both on the other side, won’t be back before winter.” Andrews looked worried as he spoke.
“Damn it, I couldn’t do it anyhow; I’ve promised to go to the Adirondacks.”
Briarley glanced at him. “Another woman?”
“Several, Jack and his wife will be along.” Even in the intimacy of their friendship Richmond Briarley had never asked that much before. Glenn Andrews alone knew how hard was the sense of finding himself bound through overwhelming conviction of duty.