"I don't think I've ever refused to help my own relations."
"Which means, I suppose, that your sister's husband is nothing to you."
Jan rose. "You are rather unjust, I think," she said quietly. "I must put the children first."
"And suppose you marry——"
"I certainly wouldn't marry any man who would object to my doing all I could for my sister's children."
"You think so now, but wait till a man comes along. You're just getting to the age, Jan, when a woman is most apt to make a fool of herself over a man. And, remember this, I'd much rather my children were brought up simply with my people in Guernsey than that they should grow up with all sorts of false ideas with nothing to back them."
Jan clenched her teeth, and though outwardly she was silent, her soul was repeating, "I will not fear," over and over again.
"Perhaps you are right, Hugo," she said quietly. "You must arrange as you think best; only please remember that you can hardly expect me to contribute to the keeping of the children if I am allowed no voice in their upbringing. Have you consulted your parents as to their living with them in Guernsey? Shall we go out? It's such a beautiful evening."
Hugo followed her into the hall and out into the garden. Involuntarily he looked after her with considerable admiration. She held herself well, that quiet woman. She waited for him in the drive, and as she did so Tony's words came back to her: "I used to feel frightened inside, but I wouldn't let him know it, and then—it was funny—but quite sunnly I wasn't frightened any more. You try it."