'and there's a sickening amount of it in the world. The number of slushy people----' She nodded towards a daily paper on the table. 'There's a murder trial going on just now: all the sympathy is for the murderer: not a thought for the soul he sent into the darkness.'
'Oh, I'm with you there. If a man in his right senses deliberately murders a fellow-creature he ought to die, if only to discourage others from attempting to do likewise! All the same'--Jean's eyes grew dark with feeling--'it's awful to think of the murderer, perhaps coming handicapped into the world, bred in misery, knowing nothing but evil in life, going violently out of it. The only comfort is that his soul goes back to God Who made it, and Who knows why.'
There was a moment's silence, then Miss Barton said: 'Well, is that arranged for Saturday? Could we be in Edinburgh about eleven? I shall have to see this Mr. Paterson in his office, and offices close early on Saturdays.'
'Of course. We can start directly after breakfast. I do hope it will be a day like this. Take a walk this afternoon, Barty: it's lovely on the hills.'
'Yes, thank you, Lady Bidborough.'
'I had promised myself I'd show you the walk over Cademuir to-day, but I've been summoned to see my oldest friend--Mrs. Hope. She lives in that white-washed house standing in the woods by Tweedside. Look, you can see the chimneys from this window. She is very old now, and frail, and can't see many people, but her daughter telephoned last night that I might go this afternoon for a little. But we'll have our walk another day.'
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