Through my open door I saw Mrs. Mavor lay her letters before Mr. Craig, saying, ‘I have a call too.’ They thought not of me.
He went through the papers, carefully laid them down without a word while she waited anxiously, almost impatiently, for him to speak.
‘Well?’ she asked, using his own words to her; ‘should I go?’
‘I do not know,’ he replied; ‘that is for you to decide—you know all the circumstances.’
‘The letters tell all.’ Her tone carried a feeling of disappointment. He did not appear to care.
‘The estates are large?’ he asked.
‘Yes, large enough—twelve thousand a year.’
‘And has your mother-in-law any one with her?’
‘She has friends, but, as she says, none near of kin. Her nephew looks after the works—iron works, you know—he has shares in them.’
‘She is evidently very lonely,’ he answered gravely.