‘Loss of memory?—­shell-shock?’ said Hester vaguely.

’They don’t do away with your disk, and your regimental marks, etc.  Whatever may happen to a private, an officer doesn’t slip through and vanish like this, if he is still alive.  The thing is perfectly clear.’

Hester shook her head without speaking.  She was just as thoroughly convinced as Farrell that Nelly was a widow; but she did not see how anybody could proclaim it before Nelly did.

‘I wonder how long it will take to convince her,’ said Farrell, after a pause.

’Well, I suppose when peace comes, if there’s no news then, she will have to give it up.  By the way, when may one—­legally—­presume that one’s husband is dead?’ asked Hester, suddenly lifting her shrewd grey eyes to the face of her visitor.

’It used to be seven years.  But I believe now you can go to the Courts—­’

’If a woman wants to re-marry?  Well that, of course, Nelly Sarratt will never do!’

‘My dear Hester, what nonsense!’ said Farrell, vehemently.  ’Of course she’ll marry again.  What is she?—­twenty-one?  It would be a sin and a shame.’

’I only meant she would never take any steps of her own will to separate herself from Sarratt.’

‘Women look at things far too sentimentally!’ exclaimed Farrell, ’and they just spoil their lives.  However, neither you nor I can prophesy anything.  Time works wonders; and if he didn’t, we should all be wrecks and lunatics!’

Hester said nothing.  She was conscious of suppressed excitement in the man before her.  Farrell watched her knitting fingers for a little, and then remarked:—­

’But of course at present what has to be done, is to improve her health, and distract her thoughts.’

Hester’s eyes lifted again.

‘And you want to take it in hand?’

Her emphasis on the pronoun was rather sharp.  Farrell’s fair though sunburnt skin shewed a sudden redness.

‘Yes, I do.  Why shouldn’t I?’ His look met hers full.

‘She’s very lonely—­very unprotected,’ said Hester, slowly.

‘You mean, you can’t trust me?’ he said, flushing deeper.

‘No, Willy—­no!’ Hester’s earnest, perplexed look appeased his rising anger.  ’But it’s a very difficult position, you must see for yourself.  Ever since George Sarratt disappeared, you’ve been—­what shall I say?—­the poor child’s earthly Providence.  Her illness—­her convalescence—­you’ve done everything—­you’ve provided everything—­’

’With her sister’s consent, remember!—­and I promised Sarratt to look after them!’

Farrell’s blue eyes were now bright and stubborn.  Hester realised him as ready for an argument which both he and she had long foreseen.  She and Farrell had always been rather intimate friends, and he had come to her for advice in some very critical moments of his life.

‘Her sister!’ repeated Hester, contemptuously.  ’Yes, indeed, Bridget Cookson—­in my opinion—­is a great deal too ready to accept everything you do!  But Nelly has fought it again and again.  Only, in her weakness, with you on one side—­and Bridget on the other—­what could she do?’