“Dear old daddy!” she said, and was amazed to find herself shedding tears. ’ ‘It could hardly be less so,’ said Mrs Sindlesham tartly. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. ‘Nevertheless, he will neither help me, nor will I seek his help. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. ” He said as Cathy took his coat and alternately handed him back his bouquet of red roses. He walked in her direction. Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. .
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