Irene laughed, delighted with the vigour underlying the old lady's
calm and gentle habit of speech. Yet she was not convinced, though
she wished to be. A good many times she had heard in thought the
suavely virile utterances of Arnold Jacks; his voice had something
that pleased her, and his way of looking at things touched her
imagination. She wished these ladies knew Arnold Jacks, that she
might ask their opinion of him.

And yet, she felt she would rather not have asked it.


CHAPTER XI


From this retreat, Irene wrote to her cousin Olga Hannaford, and in
the course of the letter made inquiry whether anything was known at
Ewell about a severe illness that had befallen young Mr. Otway. Olga
replied that she had heard of no such event; that they had received
no news at all of Mr. Otway since his leaving England. This did not
allay an uneasiness which, in various forms, had troubled Irene ever
since she heard that her studious acquaintance had abandoned his
ambitions and gone back to commerce. A few weeks more elapsed, and
--being now in Scotland--she received a confirmation of what
Arnold Jacks had reported. Immediately on reaching Odessa, Piers
Otway had fallen ill, and for a time was in danger. Irene mused. She
would have preferred not to think of Otway at all, but often did so,
and could not help it. A certain reproach of conscience connected
itself with his name. But as time went on, and it appeared that the
young man was settled to his mercantile career in Russia, she
succeeded in dismissing him from her mind.