Strangely, as the days passed, the years that had been added to him
since their last meeting seemed to fall away. He became to her more
and more the boy that he had been when she had known him before. In
a thousand ways he showed it, his extraordinary youth and
inexperience in spite of all that he had been and done. She felt
older now than he and she loved him the more for that. Most of all
she longed to get him away from this place where he was. Then one
day little Abrams said to her:
"He'll never get well here."
"That's what I think," she said.
"Can't you carry him off somewhere? The country's the place for him-
-somewhere in the South."
Her heart leapt.
"Oh, Glebeshire!" she cried.
"Well, that's not a bad place," he said. "That would pick him up."
At once she thought, night and day, of St. Dreot's. A very hunger
possessed her to get back there. And why not? For one thing, it
would be so much cheaper. Her money would not last for ever, and
Mrs. Brandon robbed her whenever possible. She determined that she
would manage it. At last, greatly fearing it, she mentioned it to
him, and to her surprise he did not scorn it.
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