Elinor dropped back to the large chair her mother had recently occupied, and curled up in it, her feet under her, her head buried in her arms.
In a few quick steps, the mother crossed the room to her son’s side. Her arm went protectingly about his bowed, weary shoulders.
“Oh, my dear, my dear!” and there was a world of sympathy and love in the vibrating voice, “I’m not going to upbraid you! I just want to tell you that——”
A slight sound at the door made her turn to glance over her shoulder. Hugh Benton stood there, stern and relentless. His eyes roved from the stricken girl huddled in her chair to rest on the bowed head of his son and the mother who stood beside him, her attitude one of soothing.
Like a cold accusing judge he stood towering there. Slowly his hand came up into a sweeping gesture to include the scene. Then the hand was pointed relentlessly, unforgivingly, at the suffering mother. When he spoke his voice was harsh, repelling.
“Well, Marjorie!” he bit off his words, “I trust you’re satisfied!”
CHAPTER XVI
“Hugh!” It was a cry of pain torn from the mother heart. But even in her anguish for her children there came a pang for the man she loved as she gazed at him wide-eyed, distressed. He seemed to have aged ten years since his interview with her only a few hours before. His face was drawn and haggard. Large, dark circles were about the eyes. The wife forced herself to speak calmly. “What do you mean?” she queried.
“I mean,” he answered, coming slowly into the room with lagging footsteps, “that this is all your work!” His gesture took in Elinor and Howard. “And I hope it pleases you,” he repeated bitterly.
“Hugh, at a time like this, when we need all your strength and sympathy to sustain us—you speak to me like this?” Marjorie’s voice was full of reproach. “Why do you use such tones to me?”