After Arthur had said good-night and gone, the two women sat in silence for a few minutes. "It sounds awful stuff, Judith," said Esther at last, in a tone of candid regret. "Yes, it does. But still those things do succeed often." "Oh yes, and we'll hope!" She glanced at Judith. "He doesn't seem very--lovelorn!" "He was pretty bad at first." She smiled faintly. "I had to be awfully disagreeable. Well, I'm quite good at it. Ever since then he's behaved wonderfully. But I don't know what he feels." "Well, I hope he'll settle down to work, after all this nonsense." "He hasn't got any work to settle to, poor boy!" "Frank says it always comes if you watch and wait." "I expect it's the successful men who say that." They had all been gay at dinner, but now Judith's voice sounded depressed and weary. Esther moved nearer to her side on the sofa. "You've had a pretty hard time of it too, haven't you?" she asked sympathetically. "It may be a funny thing, but I miss Bernadette dreadfully. She was always an interest anyhow, wasn't she? And without her--with just Godfrey and Margaret--Hilsey's awfully flat. You see, we're none of us people with naturally high spirits. Arthur is, and they used to crop out in spite of everything; so it wasn't so bad while he was there. Godfrey and Margaret are always wanting to press him to come back, but he must stay and work, mustn't he?" Esther took a sidelong glance at her--rather an inquisitive glance--but she said no more than, "Of course he must. He can come to you at Christmas--unless he's got another farce or some other nonsense in his head." Esther had taken Bernadette's flight with just a shrug of her shoulders; that had seemed to her really the only way to take it. She had not been surprised--looking back on her Sunday at Hilsey and remembering Bernadette's manner, she now declared that she had expected the event--and it was no use pretending to be much shocked. To her steady and calm temperament, very strong in affection but a stranger to passion, a creature of Bernadette's waywardness could assert no real claim to sympathy, however much her charm might be acknowledged. She was surprised that Judith should miss her so much, and with so much regret. For Arthur's infatuation she still could have only scorn, however kindly the scorn might be. In her eyes Bernadette had never been really a wife, and hardly in any true sense a mother; by her flight she merely abdicated positions which she had never effectively filled. She would not even give her credit for courage in going away, in facing the scandal; there she preferred to see only Oliver Wyse's strong hand and imperious will.