do? What _could_ she do?

Paul took her into the closest embrace, kissed her shut eyes in a
passion of regret that she should have learned the evil in the world, of
relieved belittling of the story, Lydia's portentous beginning of which
had quite startled him, and of indignation at "Mrs. O'Hern's foul
mouth--for you can just be sure, darling Lydia, that it's all nothing
but rowings among the servants. Probably Ellen won't let Mrs. O'Hern
take her usual weekly perquisite of sugar and tea. Servants are always
quarreling and the only way to do is to keep out of their lies about
each other and let them fight it out themselves. You never can have any
idea of who's telling the truth if you butt in and try to straighten it,
and the Lord knows that Ellen's too good a cook and too much needed in
this family until the new member arrives safely, to hurt her feelings
with investigating any of Mrs. O'Hern's yarns. Just you refuse to listen
to servants' gossip. If you'd been a little less of a darling,
inexperienced school-girl, you'd have cut off such talk at the first
words. Just you take my word for it, you dear, you sweetheart, you best
of--" he ran on into ardent endearments, forgetting the story himself,
blinding and dazzling Lydia with the excitement which always swept her
away in those moments when Paul was her passionate, youthful lover.

She tried to revert to the question once or twice later, but now Paul
alternated between shaming her laughingly for her gullibility and making
fun of her "countrified" interest in the affairs of her servants. "But,
Paul, Mrs. O'Hern says that Patsy doesn't _want_ to drink and--and go to
those awful houses--his father died of it--only Ellen makes him, by--"

Paul tried to close the discussion with a little impatience at her
attempt to press the matter. "Every Irish boy drinks more or less, you
little goose. That's nothing! Of course it's too bad to have you _see_ a
drunken man, but it's nothing so tragic. If he didn't drink here, he
would somewhere else. The only thing we have to complain about that I
can see, is having the cook's followers drunk--but Ellen's such a
miracle of competence we must overlook that. As for the rest of Mrs.
O'Hern's dirty stories, they're spite work evidently." As Lydia looked
up at him, her face still anxious and drawn, he ended finally, "Good
gracious, Lydia, don't you suppose I know--that my experience of the
world has taught me more about human nature than yo