“If she chooses not to speak, to play a part.”
John Gore met his friend’s eyes.
“Why should this—this man be shielded? There is blood upon his hands; he has stained the lives of others. Who shall consider him?”
“John, John, you talk like a man who stabs fiercely at a shadow. No man is wholly the devil’s creature, and, say what you will, his loins begot you.”
“The greater the need, Sam, to put aside false sentiment. Still, he is out of our ken at present. We must bide our time—and watch.”
Mr. Pepys rubbed his knees with the palms of his hands.
“Do you know what I would have you do, John? Go back to this quiet farm; let the child come by her health and happiness. Keep the lawyers out of it, and marry her, if you can.”
“You are echoing my own thoughts, Sam.”
“Good; very good. See what a seal, my friend, you might set upon the past, if God granted you children and happiness, and the long love of wife and man.”
John Gore understood his meaning.