His heart beat faster. It looked as if she meant this for a hint.
"I can't thank you properly," she continued; "though I know that all you undertake will be thoroughly carried out. I wish I hadn't been forced to let you go so far away; there is nobody else I can rely on."
He could not tell her that he longed for the right to shelter her always—it was not very long since the Canadian tragedy—but silence cost him an effort. At length she touched his arm.
"It's getting late, and the others will wonder where we are," she reminded him.
They went back to the house; and when Sylvia joined Mrs. Lansing, George felt seriously annoyed with himself. He had been deeply stirred, but he had preserved an unmoved appearance when he might have expressed some sympathy of tenderness which could not have been resented. Presently Ethel West crossed the room to where he was rather moodily standing.
"I believe our car is waiting, and, as Edgar won't let me come to the station to-morrow, I must say good-by now," she told him. "Both Stephen and I are glad he is on your hands."
"I must try to deserve your confidence," George said, smiling. "It's premature yet."
"Never mind that. We're alike in some respects: pretty speeches don't appeal to us. But there's one thing I must tell you—don't delay out yonder, come back as soon as you can."
She left him thoughtful. He had a high opinion of Ethel's intelligence, but he would entertain no doubts or misgivings. They were treasonable to Herbert and, what was worse, to Sylvia.
Going to bed in good time, he had only a few words with Sylvia over his early breakfast in the morning. Then he was driven to the station, where Edgar joined him; and the greater part of their journey proved uneventful.