"I don't understand," he said, slowly. "What do you mean?"
She held out her hands to him.
"May God forgive me for betraying my child's secret"—she managed to put a heartfelt tone into her words, and was quite pleased with it—"but I think, for I can't give her away more explicitly than that—I think she loves Tom."
"He hasn't proposed?"
"Not yet. But he's devoted to her. He sees her every day of his life, does everything we do, goes everywhere we go. He can't live without her," she said, with a little, crooked smile; "it hasn't yet occurred to him that the end must be the only one for two children who love each other—but it will."
Sir George looked at her and hesitated. "Humph! He's very well off?"
"Fairly well off," she answered, with a gleam in her blue eyes. "That doesn't matter in the least," she went on, in an off-hand manner. "But I can't play with my child's happiness, George, and I love the boy and want him for my own."
"All right, my dear, all right," he said, and, seeing it was expected of him, he took both her hands in his. "It's always better not to interfere with young people." And so Mrs. Lakeman was satisfied. But Sir George walked away with an uneasy feeling at the back of his head. "I wonder if Hilda Lakeman was lying," he said to himself. "I never understand her, and for the life of me I can never quite believe in her. She is tricky—tricky."
He saw Mr. Garratt at Haslemere station waiting for the Guildford train. "I should like to punch his head," he thought, but this desire, of course, made no difference in any way.
Meanwhile matters had not improved at Woodside Farm. A fierce jealousy was raging in Hannah's virgin heart; she found it difficult even to keep her hands off Margaret. "I should like to box your ears and lock you up in your room," she remarked, spitefully, when she could no longer control herself.