“It would have looked like that,” said Robert, reflecting.
“Without any doubt that was what she thought; still, I don't like this strength in so young a girl. She will make a more harmonious woman than girl, for she has not yet grown up to her own character. But depend upon it, that girl never went to work of her own free choice.”
“You say the father is out of work?” Robert said.
“Yes, he has not had work for six months. He said, with the most dejected dignity and appeal that I ever saw in my life, that they begin to think him too old, that the younger men are preferred.”
“I wonder,” Robert began, then he stopped confusedly. It had been on his tongue to say that he wondered if he could not get some employment for him at Lloyd's; then he remembered his uncle, and stopped. Robert had begun to understand the older man's methods, and also to understand that they were not to be cavilled at or disputed, even by a nephew for whom he had undoubtedly considerable affection.
“It is nonsense, of course,” said Risley. “The man is not by any means old or past his usefulness, although I must admit he has that look. He cannot be any older than your uncle. Speaking of your uncle, how is Mrs. Lloyd?”
“I fear Aunt Lizzie is very far from well,” replied Robert, “but she tries to keep it from Uncle Norman.”
“I don't see how she can. She looked ghastly when I met her the other day.”
“That was when Uncle Norman was in New York,” said Robert. “It is different when he is at home.” As he spoke, an expression of intensest pity came over the young man's face. “I wonder what a woman who loves her husband will not do to shield him from any annoyance or suffering,” he said.
“I believe some women are born fixed to a sort of spiritual rack for the sake of love, and remain there through life,” said Risley. “But I have always liked Mrs. Lloyd. She ought to have good advice. What is it, has she told you?”