She shook her head slowly.
'No, it's not courage; it's despair. Sometimes, when I think what his father was, I'm thankful that George is dead. For at least his end was heroic. He died in a noble cause, in the performance of his duty. Life would have been too hard for him to allow me to regret his end.'
Alec watched her. He foresaw the words that she would say, and he waited for them.
'I want to thank you for all you did for him,' she said, steadying her voice.
'You need not do that,' he answered, gravely.
She was silent for a moment. Then she raised her eyes and looked at him steadily. Her voice now had regained its usual calmness.
'I want you to tell me that he did all I could have wished him to do.'
To Alec it seemed that she must notice the delay of his answer. He had not expected that the question would be put to him so abruptly. He had no moral scruples about telling a deliberate lie, but it affected him with a physical distaste. It sickened him like nauseous water.
'Yes, I think he did.'
'It's my only consolation that in the short time there was given to him, he did nothing that was small or mean, and that in everything he was honourable, upright, and just dealing.'