He turned to her thoughtfully. “That young fellow seems sure of himself. You believe in him?”
Justine hesitated. “Not in his expectation of recovery—no one does.”
“But you think they can keep the poor child alive till Langhope and her husband get back?”
There was a moment’s pause; then Justine murmured: “It can be done.… I think.…”
“Yes—it’s horrible,” said Mr. Tredegar suddenly, as if in answer to her thought.
She looked up in surprise, and saw his eye resting on her with what seemed like a mist of sympathy on its vitreous surface. Her lips trembled, parting as if for speech—but she looked away without answering.
“These new devices for keeping people alive,” Mr. Tredegar continued; “they increase the suffering besides prolonging it?”
“Yes—in some cases.”
“In this case?”
“I am afraid so.”
The lawyer drew out his fine cambric handkerchief, and furtively wiped a slight dampness from his forehead. “I wish to God she had been killed!” he said.
Justine lifted her head again, with an answering exclamation. “Oh, yes!”
“It’s infernal—the time they can make it last.”
“It’s useless!” Justine broke out.
[ 417 ]
