"A woman's fears only, dear," she admitted, as she gave him her hands. "Why did nature make my sex pessimists and yours optimists, I wonder? I would so much rather look towards the sun."
"Soon," he promised her with a smile, "I shall dominate your subconscious mind. You shall see the colours of life through my eyes. You will find your long-delayed happiness."
The tears which stood in her eyes were of unalloyed content,—the drama so close at hand was forgotten. Their hands remained clasped for a moment. Then he left her.
Back into that room with its strange mystery of shadows, its odour of mingled tragedy and absurdity. Grant rose from a high-backed chair guarding the table, as Wingate approached. The latter glanced towards the three men crouching around the table. Their white faces gleamed weirdly against the background of shaded light. There were black lines under Dredlinton's eyes. He made a gurgling effort at speech,—his muttered words were only partly coherent.
"I resign! I resign!"
Wingate shook his head.
"I am afraid, Lord Dredlinton," he said, "that you are in the hands of your fellow directors. One may not be released without the others. Directly you can induce Mr. Phipps and Mr. Rees to see reason, you will all three be restored to liberty. Until then I am afraid that you must share the inevitable inconveniences connected with your enforced stay here."
Phipps lurched towards him with a furious gesture. Wingate only smiled as he threw himself into his easy-chair.
"Wheat is falling very slowly," he announced. "Every one is waiting for the B. & I. to sell.—You can go now, Grant," he added, "I will take up the watch myself."