“Have you met the man?” asked Elisabeth sharply.
“I do not even know his name. But I should imagine him a man of big, fine qualities.”
“Since you don't know him, you can hardly pronounce an opinion.”
A whimsical smile, touched with sadness, flitted across Tim's face.
“I know Sara,” was all he said.
“Sara is given to idealizing the people she cares for,” rejoined Elisabeth.
She spoke quietly, but her expression was curiously intent. It was as though she were gathering together her forces, concentrating them towards some definite purpose, veiled in the inscrutable depths of those strange eyes of hers.
“I find it difficult to forgive her,” she said at last.
“That's not like you, mother.”
“It is—just like me,” she responded, a tone of half-tender mockery in her voice. “Naturally I find it difficult to forgive the woman who has hurt my son.”