It was really too silly and stupid to talk about.

She supposed--she dreaded--that Bridget might be going to ask Sir William some favour; that she meant to make use of his kindness to her sister in order to work upon him.

How horrible that would be!--how it would spoil everything! Nelly began sometimes to dream of moving, of going to Borrowdale, or to the coast at Scascale.

And then, partly her natural indolence, and partly her clinging to every rock and field in this beautiful place where she had been so happy, intervened; and she let things slide.
Yet when Sir William and Cicely arrived, to find Bridget making tea, and Nelly listening with a little frown of effort, while Marsworth, pencil in hand, was drawing diagrams _a la Belloc_, to explain to her the Russian retreat from Galicia, how impossible not to feel cheered by Farrell's talk and company! The great _bon enfant_, towering in the little room, and positively lighting it up by the red-gold of his-hair and beard, so easily entertained, so overflowing with kind intentions, so fastidious intellectually, and so indulgent morally:--as soon as he appeared he filled the scene.
'No fresh news, dear Mrs.Sarratt, nothing whatever,' he said at once, meeting her hungry eyes.

'And you ?' She shook her head.
'Don't worry.