"And if you will—you will. . . . I know that also! But at least take a nip to keep out the damp. Your husband gave me this at the last moment for the three of you."
"How like him to think of it!" she murmured, smiling unsteadily.
"Yes—it was like him,"—and in the expansion of the moment the warm-hearted Resident put a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "He's a deuced fine fellow, my dear, and he has found a wife that's worthy of him."
Honor blushed rose-red, and took the proffered stimulant.
"I'll give Miss Maurice some too," she said. "Don't lose a second on our account, please."
Thus urged, the good man hurried away; and Honor went straight to
Quita, whose unnatural apathy cut her to the heart.
"Miss Maurice, here's brandy," she said softly. "Drink all of it, before I help you down."
Quita emptied the tumbler; and Honor, grasping her waist with both hands, lifted her out of the saddle.
"How strong you are," she said, in the toneless voice of a sleep-walker. Then her frozen anguish melted suddenly and completely. For Honor Desmond, instead of releasing her, clasped her close, kissing her, with passionate tenderness, on cheeks and brows, like wet marble: and in the midst of her bewildered misery Quita realised dimly what it might mean to possess a mother.
"Theo and I know about it all," Honor explained at length; and Quita nodded. The fact that she was crying her heart out on the shoulder of her detested rival made the whole incident dreamlike to the verge of stupefaction: and it was Honor who spoke again.