'My dear Hester, what nonsense!' said Farrell, vehemently. 'Of course she'll marry again. What is she?—twenty-one? It would be a sin and a shame.'
'I only meant she would never take any steps of her own will to separate herself from Sarratt.'
'Women look at things far too sentimentally!' exclaimed Farrell, 'and they just spoil their lives. However, neither you nor I can prophesy anything. Time works wonders; and if he didn't, we should all be wrecks and lunatics!'
Hester said nothing. She was conscious of suppressed excitement in the man before her. Farrell watched her knitting fingers for a little, and then remarked:—
'But of course at present what has to be done, is to improve her health, and distract her thoughts.'
Hester's eyes lifted again.
'And you want to take it in hand?'
Her emphasis on the pronoun was rather sharp. Farrell's fair though sunburnt skin shewed a sudden redness.
'Yes, I do. Why shouldn't I?' His look met hers full.
'She's very lonely—very unprotected,' said Hester, slowly.