CHAPTER EIGHTEENMarion Grey went back to work after five days of Hilary’s nursing. It was about this time that Jacques Dupré wrote to his sister in Provence:
“I saw Marion in the street to-day. It breaks one’s heart—she looks like a shadow carved in stone....”
But then Jacques was a poet, and he had loved her vainly for years—one of those endless, hopeless loves.
Hilary urged a longer rest, but was silent when Marion said,
“Don’t stop me, Hilary. If I stop I shall die. And if I die, Geoff won’t have anyone.”
It was this speech more than anything else which took Hilary down to Ledlington again just a week after her last fruitless visit. She wasn’t going to be caught in the dark this time, so she took the 9.30, and found her way out of the station yard and into Market Street with a good
