She admitted it without hesitation, for she realized now exactly what had animated her to seek this painful interview. She was fighting Wyllard’s battle, and that fact sustained her.
Sally winced. “Yes” she agreed, “I guess you had to tell me. He was fond of you. One could be proud of that. Harry Wyllard never did anything low down and mean.”
Agatha did not resent her candor. Although this was a thing she would scarcely have credited a little while ago, she saw that the girl felt the contrast between Gregory’s character and that of the man whose place he had taken, and regretted it. Agatha’s eyes became dim with unshed tears.
“Wyllard, they think, is dead,” she said, in a low voice. “You have Gregory still.”
Sally looked at her with unveiled compassion, and Agatha did not shrink from it.
“Yes,” she declared, with a simplicity that became her, “and Gregory must have someone to—take care of him. I must do it if I can.”
There was no doubt that Agatha was stirred. This half-taught girl’s quiet acceptance of the burden that many women must carry made her almost ashamed.
“We will leave it to you,” she said.
It became evident that there was another side to Sally’s character, for her manner changed, and the hardness crept back into her face.
“Well,” she admitted, “I’d ’most been expecting something of this kind when I heard that man Edmonds was going to the Range. He has got a pull on Gregory, but he’s surely not going to feel quite happy when I get hold of him.”