Again and again he's run to her, or called to her,
to tell her of some fresh complication that he'd gotten his frightened
self into; and to protect him, she has dared and done what would have
frightened an ordinary woman into fits."
"I think," observed Ashton-Kirk, "that she has realized his position,
to some extent, at least. The fact that he is weak has, I think,
dawned upon her already; she may also see his evident selfishness
before long. If she does--why, might there not still be some hope for
you, Pen?"
Pendleton shook his head in the gloom.
"I'm afraid not," said he, hopelessly. "Somehow a weak man makes a
great appeal to the woman who has grown to care for him. He arouses
her mother instinct. And Edyth is so strong that her pity--"
"May induce her to do her utmost to see him through this trouble,"
interrupted Ashton-Kirk. "But it may not carry her much further. When
once the thing is over, a reaction may set in. Who knows?"
But Pendleton refused to be comforted. For a long time they talked of
Edyth Vale, Morris, and the killing of Hume. Finally Pendleton said:
"I suppose we can't smoke here to-night, can we?"
"No; the lights might be seen; and we can't tell what sharp eyes are
watching the place.
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