"That won't do Ally any good. If you _know_ he cares."
"I don't absolutely know it. And if I did it wouldn't make any
difference."
"And if--you care for him?"
"That doesn't make any difference either. I've got to clear out. It's
her one chance, Molly. I've got to give it her. How _can_ I let her
die, poor darling, or go mad? She'll be all right if he marries her."
"And if he doesn't?"
"He may, Molly, he may, if I clear out in time. Anyhow, there isn't
anybody else."
"If only," Mary said, "Papa had kept a curate."
"But he hasn't kept a curate. He never will keep a curate. And if
he does he'll choose a man with a wife and seven children--no, he'll
choose no children. The wife mustn't have a chance of dying."
"Gwenda--do you think anybody _knows?_ They did, you know--before, and
it was awful."
"Nobody knows this time, except Papa and Steven Rowcliffe and you and
me."
"I wish I didn't. I wish you hadn't told me."
"You _had_ to know or I wouldn't have told you. Do you think Steven
Rowcliffe would have told _me----_"
"How could he? It was awful of him."
"He could because he isn't a coward or a fool and he knew that I'm not
a coward or a fool either. He thought Ally had nobody but me. She'll
have nobody but you when I'm gone. You mustn't let her see you think
her awful. You mustn't _think_ it. She isn't. She's as good as gold.
Steven Rowcliffe said so. If she wasn't, Molly, I wouldn't ask you to
help her--with him.
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