That was in January (they put it all down to the cold of January); and every day until the middle of February when Mabel was about again, Jane tramped across the Heath to Augustus Road, always in weather that did its worst for Mabel, always in wind or frost or rain. She never missed a day.
Sometimes Henry was with her. He made John's house the last point of his round that he might sit with Mabel. He had never sat with her before; he had never paid very much attention to her. It was the change in Henry that made Jane alive to the change in Mabel; for the long, lean, unhappy man, this man of obstinate distastes and disapprovals, had an extreme tenderness for all physical suffering.
Since Mabel's illness he had dropped his disapproving attitude to Jane. She could almost have believed that Henry liked her.
One day as they turned together into the deep avenue of Augustus Road, she saw kind grey eyes looking down at her from Henry's height.
"You're very good to poor Mabel, Jinny," he said.
"I can't do much."
"Do what you can. We shan't have her with us very long."
"Henry——"
"She doesn't know it. John doesn't know it. But I thought I'd tell you."
"I'm glad you've told me."