'Horrible,' he whispered, 'but why didn't you tell me? I'd have helped, you know I would.'
'Yes, I know, but it wouldn't have done. No, Jack, it's no good helping women. You can help men a bit; but women, no. You only make them more dependent, weaker. If women are the poor, frivolous, ignorant things they are, it's because they've been protected or told they ought to want to be protected. Besides, I'm proud. I wasn't coming back to you until I was—well I'm not exactly rich, but—'
She indicated the room with a nod and Holt, following it, sank deeper into wonder at the room where everything spoke of culture and comfort.
'But how—?' he stammered at last, 'how did you—? what happened then?'
Victoria hesitated for a moment.
'Don't ask me just now, Jack,' she said, 'I'll tell you later. Tell me about yourself. What are you doing? and where is your mother?'
Holt looked at her doubtfully. He would have liked to cross-question her, but he was the second generation of a rising family and had learned that questions must not be pressed.
'Mother?' he said vaguely. 'Oh, she's gone back to Rawsley. She never was happy here. She went back as soon as pater died; she missed the tea fights, you know, and Bethlehem and all that.'
'It must have been a shock to you when your father died.'
'Yes, I suppose it was. The old man and I didn't exactly hit it off but, somehow—those things make you realise—'