"You needn't be afraid," said Jack. "Nor Sir Bryson. I can't say it properly, but I shall not have anything to do with her until I can come out in the open."
"I knew you felt that way," she said quietly. "Of course it's no use telling Sir Bryson in his present state of mind."
"He hates me," said Jack frowning. "His kind always does. He won't give me a chance, and I say things that only make matters worse." He rubbed his furrowed forehead with his knuckle. "It's a rotten, mixed-up mess, isn't it?" he said with an appealing look.
Her eyes softened. His strength and his weakness appealed alike to the woman in her. Her hand went out impulsively. "You boy!" she said. "It's no wonder!"
Jack, wondering what was no wonder, grabbed her hand, and pressed it until she winced.
"If I can help you, come to me," she said.
"Thanks, anyway," he said. "But nobody can, I suspect."
"Now talk to Linda," she said. "Be gentle with her."
Jack frowned. "I told her not to say anything," he began.
"I know, I know," she said cajolingly. "But you are strong; be merciful with her weakness. Make allowances for women's nerves and emotions. It was a terrible scene on us all; most of all on her. She was foolish; but there was a kind of bravery, too, in avowing you before them all. Think of that!"