His ability is enough for anything, and he will throw himself into this.

I do not think Hurd could do better." She did not answer.

She felt that he was magnanimous, but felt it coldly, without emotion.
He came and stooped over her.
"Good-night--good-night--tired child--dear heart! When I saw you in that cottage this morning I thought of the words, 'Give, and it shall be given unto you.' All that my life can do to pour good measure, pressed down, running over, into yours, I vowed you then!" When the door closed upon him, Marcella, stretched in the darkness, shed the bitterest tears that had ever yet been hers--tears which transformed her youth--which baptised her, as it were, into the fulness of our tragic life.
She was still weeping when she heard the door softly opened.

She sprang up and dried her eyes, but the little figure that glided in was not one to shrink from.

Mary Harden came and sat down beside her.
"I knew you would be miserable.