‘What shall I do?’ she asked, and I knew she was waiting to hear him urge her to stay; but he did not see, or at least gave no heed.
‘I cannot say,’ he repeated quietly. ‘There are many things to consider; the estates—’
‘The estates seem to trouble you,’ she replied, almost fretfully. He looked up in surprise. I wondered at his slowness.
‘Yes, the estates,’ he went on, ‘and tenants, I suppose—your mother-in-law, your little Marjorie’s future, your own future.’
‘The estates are in capable hands, I should suppose,’ she urged, ‘and my future depends upon what I choose my work to be.’
‘But one cannot shift one’s responsibilities,’ he replied gravely. ‘These estates, these tenants, have come to you, and with them come duties.’
‘I do not want them,’ she cried.
‘That life has great possibilities of good,’ he said kindly.
‘I had thought that perhaps there was work for me here,’ she suggested timidly.
‘Great work,’ he hastened to say. ‘You have done great work. But you will do that wherever you go. The only question is where your work lies.’