"Well, you would, and you wouldn't have been!" said Georgina obstinately. "It's very complicated. You would have had to be married again—after the divorce."
"I don't know why you are so unkind, Georgie!" There was a little quaver in Cynthia's voice. "Philip's a very old friend of mine, and I'm very sorry and troubled about him. Why do you smirch it all with these horrid remarks?"
"I won't make any more, if you don't like them," said Georgina, unabashed—"except just to say this, Cynthia—for the first time I begin to believe in your chance. There was always something not cleared up about Philip, and it might have turned out to be something past mending. Now it is cleared up; and it's bad—but it might have been worse. However—we'll change the subject. What about that handsome young woman, Helena?"
"Now, if you'd chanced to say it was a mercy she didn't happen to be Lady Buntingford, there'd have been some sense in it!" Cynthia's tone betrayed the soreness within.
Lady Georgina laughed, or rather chuckled.
"I know Philip a great deal better than you do, my dear, though he is your friend. He has made himself, I suspect, as usual, much too nice to that child; and he may think himself lucky if he hasn't broken her heart. He isn't a flirt—I agree. But he produces the same effect—without meaning it. Without meaning anything indeed—except to be good and kind to a young thing. The men with Philip's manners and Philip's charm—thank goodness, there aren't many of them!—have an abominable responsibility. The poor moth flops into the candle before she knows where she is. But as to marrying her—it has never entered his head for a moment, and never would."
"And why shouldn't it, please?"
"Because she is much too young for him—and Philip is a tired man. Haven't you seen that, Cynthy? Before you knew him, Philip had exhausted his emotions—that's my reading of him. I don't for a moment believe his wife was the only one, if what Geoffrey said of her, and what one guesses, is true. She would never have contented him. And now it's done. If he ever marries now, it will be for peace—not passion. As I said before, Cynthy—and I mean no offence—your chances are better than they were."
Cynthia winced and protested again, but all the same she was secretly soothed by her odd sister's point of view. They began to discuss the situation at the Rectory,—how Alice Alcott, their old friend, with her small domestic resources, could possibly cope with it, if a long illness developed.
"Either the woman will die, or she will be divorced," said Georgina trenchantly. "And as soon as they know she isn't going to die, what on earth will they do with her?"