Mrs. Ambrose apologised for the interruption, and asked whether she
might speak to him about a plan of hers. Would he consent to leave his
daughter with them when they landed, instead of taking her on up the
Amazons?
"We would take great care of her," she added, "and we should really like
it."
Willoughby looked very grave and carefully laid aside his papers.
"She's a good girl," he said at length. "There is a likeness?"--he
nodded his head at the photograph of Theresa and sighed. Helen looked
at Theresa pursing up her lips before the Cockney photographer. It
suggested her in an absurd human way, and she felt an intense desire to
share some joke.
"She's the only thing that's left to me," sighed Willoughby. "We go on
year after year without talking about these things--" He broke off. "But
it's better so. Only life's very hard."
Helen was sorry for him, and patted him on the shoulder, but she felt
uncomfortable when her brother-in-law expressed his feelings, and took
refuge in praising Rachel, and explaining why she thought her plan might
be a good one.
"True," said Willoughby when she had done. "The social conditions are
bound to be primitive. I should be out a good deal. I agreed because she
wished it. And of course I have complete confidence in you. . . . You
see, Helen," he continued, becoming confidential, "I want to bring
her up as her mother would have wished.
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