“You said he was coming here for tiffin, Mrs. Boatwright?”
“Yes.” The woman glanced out at the courtyard. “Any moment.”
“Then I shan't come into the dining-room.” And Betty turned to leave the room.
“Just a moment! Am I to take that as an answer? Are you promising?”
Hetty turned; hesitated; then, suddenly, impulsively, came across the room.
“Mrs. Boatwright,” she said unsteadily—her eyes were filling—“would it do any good for me to talk right out with you? Probably I do need advice.” She faltered momentarily, shocked by the expression on that nearly square face. “Oh, it isn't a terribly serious situation. It really isn't. But that man is honest. He has led an unhappy, solitary life...”
Her voice died out.
“But you said he was married!” cried Mrs. Boatwright explosively.
“Yes, but—”
“'But! But!' Child, what are you talking about?”