Page:Dark Hester.djvu/240

Hester had no need to drag her. She went passively; weak as a rag; like a criminal with gyves upon his wrists. Once it was known, one could never do it. She might almost be put into a lunatic asylum. It would not be possible to pretend to Hester. She remembered her stick lying beside the line on the permanent way. Hester had seen her lay it down. She had been watching her for how long? She remembered that she consulted her watch again and again. No; there was no use pretending. So she walked on, held by Hester, into the little copse which, thickly planted with pine trees, made a whispering sound above their heads. Here Hester paused, and as Monica felt herself released she sank down upon the ground and covered her face with her hands.

Hester remained standing beside her, leaning against a tree. ‘It would be a rotten thing to do, wouldn’t it?’ she repeated, and a long time must have passed. ‘What would have become of Clive if you had? He would never have forgiven himself.’

Monica stilled her shuddering breaths. She forced her mind, from some vast dispersal, into the channel of thought. It was like air entering drowned lungs, cutting its way resuscitatingly. ‘It might