"I can't answer you."
"Why?"
"Because—because I care for her too much. And I can do absolutely nothing for her. I could not swerve her or direct her. She alone knows what is in her heart and mind to do. I cannot alter it. She will act according to her strength; none can do otherwise.... And she is tired to the very soul.... You tell me that life and youth in you died within a year's space. I believe it.... But with her it took two years to die. And then it died.... Let her alone, in God's name! The child is weary of pursuit, deathly weary of importunity—tired, sad, frightened at the disaster to her fortune. Let her alone. If she marries it will be because of physical strength lacking—strength of character, of mind—perhaps moral, perhaps spiritual strength—I don't know. All I know is that no man or woman can help her, because the world has bruised her too long and she's afraid of it."
For a long while Mrs. Sprowl sat there in silence; then:
"It is strange," she mused, "that Strelsa should be afraid of Sir Charles."
"I don't think she is."
"Then why on earth won't she marry him? He is richer than Langly!"
Quarren looked at her oddly:
"But Sir Charles is her friend, you see. And so am I.... Friends do not make a convenience of one another."
"She could learn to love him. He is a lovable fellow."