“I am afraid,” she answered, “that one’s friends can judge only of the externals, and the things which matter, the things inside are realized only by oneself— stop. There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. “Will you tell Sydney that I will see him in the morning,” he said. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. The child was still safe. ‘This is a private house,’ Hilary said severely, ‘and you are trespassing.
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