‘When we parted at her door, I lifted her from her horse, and she looked so utterly sad and heartbroken, that I could hardly bear to see her. She asked me to call upon her to-morrow afternoon, as she had something to say to me, and I—said I would.’
Silence again. Roger pondered the situation, and at last said—
‘I suppose, if you made a promise of that sort, you must keep it.’
‘I must, I think. I’m only under the impression that I was an awful fool ever to make it.’
‘I don’t see why. It commits you to nothing.’
‘Oh, nothing, of course,’ said Michael, quickly. ‘I’m sorry for her, that’s all. And I hate to see a woman in trouble.’
‘She may have got over her trouble by the time you get there.’
‘She’ll never get over it, if you mean that she may have begun not to care about her brother’s weaknesses, or vices—whichever you please to call them.’
‘Does she expect you to help her in curing them?’ asked Roger, rather bitterly.
‘I don’t know what she wants,’ said Michael curtly. ‘I thought I’d tell you about it, that was all. It’s all right.’