I am
getting stronger; it's time I tried to find something to do. But I--'
Her voice failed again. Sidney gazed at her, and saw the dull
lamplight just glisten on her hair. She was bending forward a
little, her hands joined and resting on her knee.
'Have you thought what kind of--of work would be best for you?'
Sidney asked. The 'work' stuck in his throat, and he seemed to
himself brutal in his way of uttering it. But he was glad when he
had put the question thus directly; one at least of his resolves was
carried out.
'I know I've no right to choose, when there's necessity,' she
answered, in a very low tone. 'Most women would naturally think of
needlework; but I know so little of it; I scarcely ever did any. If
I could--I might perhaps do that at home, and I feel--if I could
only avoid--if I could only be spared going among strangers--'
Her faltering voice sank lower and lower; she seemed as if she would
have hidden her face even under its veil.
'I feel sure you will have no difficulty,' Sidney hastened to reply,
his own voice unsteady. 'Certainly you can get work at home. Why do
you trouble yourself with the thought of going among strangers?
There'll never be the least need for that; I'm sure there won't.
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