"Yes; London is hard at work cabinet-making," he said, trying to smile.
"I must get back to-night."
"I don't know how you could be spared," said Mrs. Boyce.
He paused; then he broke out: "When a man is in the doubt and trouble I am, he must be spared. Indeed, since the night of the trial, I feel as though I had been of very little use to any human being."
He spoke simply, but every word touched her. What an inconceivable entanglement the whole thing was! Yet she was no longer merely contemptuous of it.
"Look!" she said, lifting a bit of black stuff from the ground beside the chair which held the envelope; "she is already making the mourning for the children. I can see she despairs."
He made a sound of horror.
"Can you do nothing?" he cried reproachfully. "To think of her dwelling upon this—nothing but this, day and night—and I, banished and powerless!"
He buried his head in his hands.
"No, I can do nothing," said Mrs. Boyce, deliberately. Then, after a pause, "You do not imagine there is any chance of success for her?"
He looked up and shook his head.