“I’m cruel,” she wept; “all the sweetness in me is turned to acid. I shall grow worse and worse, till at last I shall be quite impenitent. I can’t help it. Life won’t grow easier for me—— If you told the truth, you’d write over me, ‘Here lies a mother who loved too much and a wife who loved too little.’ I’m spoiling my children with my fondness and filling their heads with vanity—— And I shall often hurt you, little Nan. But you’ll stick by me, won’t you?”
Barrington was suspicious that violent scenes took place in his absence; manlike, he was irritated and could not comprehend their necessity. He was furious that his wife should be upset and forbade the name of Ocky to be mentioned in his presence.
Peter overheard much of the abuse which was showered on his uncle by both Jehane and her children. His eyes became flames when harsh things were said; quarrels were the result. The quarrels were for the most part with Riska. He could not believe that anyone he loved was really bad. Glory shared his grieved anger; a defensive alliance in the interest of Ocky was formed between her and himself. It was the first compact he had ever made with Glory. But she was too mild for Peter—too much of a Saint Teresa and not enough of a Joan of Arc. Glory knew that she could not be valiant; in secret she cried her heart out because he despised her cowardice.
Barrington might forbid the mention of Ocky’s name, but outside on the Terrace there was a perpetual reminder.
A tall man, with a straight back and wooden way of walking, watched the house. He pretended not to be watching and, when anyone saw him from the window, would stroll carelessly away as though he were just taking a breath of air; but he always returned. He got so much on Barrington’s nerves that he finally made up his mind to accost him.
“What are you doing here, always hanging round? I won’t have it.”
The man, who had tried to avoid him, finding himself cornered, answered respectfully “Sorry, sir. H’it’s orders.”
“But what are you? A plain-clothes man?”
“That’s not for me to say, sir.”
Barrington slipped him a sovereign, saying, “Come, speak out You’re safe with me. I won’t tell. You know, it’s a bit thick, having you out here. The ladies are upset.” The man scratched his head. “It ain’t the ladies I’m after. It’s ‘im. You’ve got ‘is missis and kids in there. ‘E was allaws fond of ‘is kids, so they tell us. We calkilate that since ‘e cawn’t get out o’ the country, ‘e’ll turn up ‘ere sooner or later. These things is allaws painful for the family. That chap was a mug; ‘e should ‘a planned things better.”