“You shall have a full account of the execution.”
They walked a little farther in silence. They had nothing more to say to each other, and at the corner of a road they parted. It was finished.
Roland walked home, well satisfied at the successful outcome of a delicate situation—the same Roland who had congratulated himself five years earlier on the diplomacy of the Brewster episode.
CHAPTER XX
THERE’S ROSEMARY....
RALPH went round to see April on the next morning, shortly after eleven o’clock. She had just been out for a long walk by herself and, on her return, had taken up a novel with which to while away the two hours remaining to lunch time. She had left school eighteen months earlier, and time often hung heavily on her. She did little things about the house: she tidied her own room, mended her own clothes, did some occasional cooking, but she had many hours of idleness. She wished sometimes that she had trained for some definite work. Women were no longer regarded as household ornaments. Many careers were open to her. But it had not seemed worth while during the last year at school to specialize in any one subject. What was the good of taking up a career that she would have to abandon so soon? The first year in any profession was uninteresting, and by the time she had reached a position where she would be entrusted with responsibilities her marriage day would be approaching. And so, instead of looking for any settled work, she had decided to stay at home and help her mother as much as possible. It was lonely at times, especially when Roland was away; she was, in consequence, much given to daydreams. Her book, on this September morning, had slipped on to her lap, and her thoughts had refused to concentrate on the printed page, and fixed themselves on the time when she and Roland would be married. He had not been to see her at all the day before. But the memory of his last kiss was very actual to her. He had loved her then. She had had her bad moments, when she had wondered whether, after all, he really cared for her, but she was reassured by such a memory. And soon they would be married. She would make him happy. She would be a good wife.
A knock on the front door roused her from her reverie, and, turning her head, she saw Ralph Richmond standing in the doorway. She rose quickly, her hand stretched out in friendly welcome.
“How nice of you to come, Ralph; you’re quite a stranger. Come and sit down.” And as soon as he was seated she began to talk with fresh enthusiasm about their friends and acquaintances. “I saw Mrs. Evans yesterday and she told me that Edward had failed again for his exam. She was awfully disappointed, though she oughtn’t really to have expected anything else. Arthur’s form master told him once that he couldn’t imagine any examination being invented that Edward would be able to pass.”
Ralph sat in silence, watching her, wondering what expression those bright features would assume when she had heard what he had to tell her. He dreaded the moment, not for his sake, but for hers. He hardly thought of himself. He loved her and he would have to give her pain. In the end he stumbled awkwardly across her conversation.
“April, I have got some bad news for you.”
“Oh, Ralph, what is it? Nothing about your people, is it?”