no one about. A meeting with Lady Gertrude at the
moment would have been of all things the most repugnant to her. With a
feeling of intense thankfulness that the thin, steel-eyed woman was
nowhere to be seen, she stepped into the car and was borne swiftly down
the drive. At the lodge, however, where the chauffeur had perforce to
pull up while the lodge-keeper opened the gates, Isobel Carson came
into sight, and common courtesy demanded that Nan should get out of the
car and speak to her. She had been gathering flowers--for Roger's
room, was Nan's involuntary thought--and carried a basket, full of
lovely blossoms, over her arm.
In a few words Nan told her of her interview with Roger.
Isobel listened intently.
"I'm glad you were willing to marry him," she said abruptly, as Nan
ceased speaking. "It was--decent of you. Because, of course, you were
never in love with him."
"No," Nan acknowledged simply.
"While I've loved him ever since I knew him!" burst out Isobel. "But
he's never looked at me, thought of me like that! Perhaps, now you're
out of the way--" She broke off, leaving her sentence unfinished.
Into Nan's mind flashed the possibility of all that this might
mean--this wealth of wasted love which was waiting for Roger if he
cared to take it.
"Would you marry him--now?" she asked.
"Marry him?" Isobel's eyes glowed. "I'd marry him if he couldn't move
a finger! I love him! And there's nothing in the world I wouldn't do
for him."
She looked almost beautiful in that moment, with her face irradiated by
a look of absolute, selfless devotion.
"And I wouldn't rest till he was cured!" The words came pouring from
her lips. "I'd try every surgeon, in the world before I'd give up
hope, and if they failed, I'd try what love--just patient, helpful
love--could do! One thinks of a thousand ways which might cure when
one loves," she added.
"Love is a great Healer," said Nan gently. "I'm not sure that
_anything's_ impossible if you have both love and faith." She paused,
her foot on the step of the car. "I think--I think, some day, Roger
will open the door of his heart to you, Isobel," she ended softly.
She was glad to lean back in the car and to feel the cool rush of the
air against her face. She was tired--immensely tired--by the strain of
the afternoon. And now the remembrance came flooding back into her
mind that, even though Roger had released her, she and Peter were still
set apart-
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