"Yes, there are always cranks and consumptives, you know."
Thayer faced back again and measured the blotter anew. Then he tossed the letter aside and, rising, walked across to the mantel.
"I think I'll go up there for a little while," he said briefly.
"Thayer! You can't."
"Why not?"
"Because you mustn't. It's impossible."
Thayer mistook his meaning.
"I can't see the impossibility, Dane. Lorimer was—is my friend. I knew him long before I ever heard of Mrs. Lorimer. I was their guest at Monomoy for a month, last summer, too. We both of us know that I can hold Lorimer, when nobody else can. I don't pretend to understand it, myself; but the fact remains. All in all, I think I am the best possible person to go."
His voice was quiet, yet its every accent was final and uncompromising. Before its dignity, Bobby felt like a rebuked child. He hastened to justify himself.
"I wasn't thinking of that at all, Thayer. The idea would have been an insult both to you and to Beatrix. I know that Beatrix feels she can rely on you to manage Lorimer; but nevertheless it is absolutely out of the question for you to go."