"If you could let Granville—and come and live with us."
His silence and his embarrassment pierced her to the heart.
"Won't you?" she ventured.
"Well—I've got to think of them. For them, in some ways, the poor old Humming-bird might, you see, be almost as bad as Virelet."
She knew. She had known it all the time. She had even got so far in knowledge as to see that Ranny's father was in a measure responsible for Ranny's marriage. If Ranny had had more life, more freedom, and more happiness around him in his home, he would not have been driven, as he was, to Violet.
"Well, dear, you just think it over. If you don't come you must get somebody."
Yes. He must get somebody. He had thought of that.
"It can't be Winny Dymond, dear."
"No," he assented. "It can't be Winny Dymond."
"And you'll have to come to me until I can find you some one."