"It's my fault," declared Hull, hoarsely. "I was too hard on her. Too hard." He turned away.
Farvel went to him and held out his hand. Hull took it, and they stood in silence for a long moment. Then Hull drew back. There was a queer, distorted smile on his face. "This comes of a man's thinking he's smart," he declared. "I wanted to show her I was on—instead of letting her explain it all to me. But I've always been like that—too smart—too smart." He turned and went out, walking unsteadily.
It was Sue who broke the news to Hattie. And when the latter had left to rejoin her mother at the hotel (for it was agreed that it would be better if Farvel and the girl did not see each other again until later). Sue came back into the Close—to wait for Barbara.
She waited beside the dial. There was nothing girl-like in her posture. Her shoulders were as bent as Hull's had been. The high color was gone from her face. And the gray eyes showed no look of youth. She felt forsaken, and old, and there was an ache in her throat.
"Well, the poor trapped soul is gone," she said presently, out loud to herself. She looked down at the dial. "Time is not for her any more. But rest—and peace."
What changes had come while just these last twenty-four hours were flying! while the shadow on that dial had made its single turn!
"And here you are, Susan, high and dry." She had wept for another; she laughed at herself. "Here you are, as Ikey says, 'All fixed up, und by your lonesomes.' But never mind any lamentations, Susan." For her breast was heaving in spite of herself. "Your hands are free—don't forget that? And you can do l-l-l-lots of helpful things—for your pocket is lined. And there must be something ahead for you, Susan! There must be s-s-s-something!"
"Miss Susan!" Someone had come from the drawing-room.
"Dora!" But she kept her face turned away, lest she betray her tears.
"It is your humble servant," acknowledged Dora.