She's a weak, soft-natured woman, and he--I
know very well what _he_ is. He and the other one--both Piers
Otway's brothers--have always been worthless creatures. She knew
it well enough, and yet----! I suppose their mother----"
She broke off in a tone of disgust. Irene, looking at her with more
attentiveness, waited for what she would next say.
"Of course you remember," Olga added, after a pause, "that they are
only half-brothers to Piers Otway?"
"Of course I do."
"_His_ mother must have been a very different woman. You have heard
----?"
They exchanged looks. Irene nodded, and averted her eyes, murmuring,
"Aunt explained to me, after his father's death."
"One would have supposed," said Olga, "that _they_ would turn into
the honourable men, and _he_ the scamp. Nature doesn't seem to care
much about setting us a moral lesson."
And she laughed--a short, bitter laugh. Irene, her brows knit in
painful thought, kept silence.
They were going to the dining-room, when a servant made known to
them that Mrs. Hannaford was asking for her daughter.
"Do have something to eat," said Olga, "and I'll tell her you are
here. You _shall_ have lunch first; I insist upon it, and I'll join
you in a moment."
In a quarter of an hour, Irene went up to her aunt's room. Mrs.
Hannaford was sitting in an easy chair, placed so that a pale ray of
sunshine fell upon her.
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