CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I
Minnie had asked Lionel to stop at home the next day until he heard from her, and of course, he did so, simply darting out, once for breakfast, once for lunch.
He was very nervous for fear he’d miss the afternoon train to Brownsville Landing. Frankie would be expecting him, perhaps she’d meet the trains. He couldn’t bear the idea of her waiting disappointed, at the station. After that train at three, there wasn’t another until seven; he was sure she couldn’t manage that.
And still he was happy and full of hope, of Frankie’s fine spirit of adventurousness; he gloried in the rashness of the marriage, felt strong, masterful, able to cope with the world. Poor Lionel! Frail barrier against which the stream of Minnie’s life force was to hurl itself! He had but an hour more to remain upright, before he was swept down and submerged and laid flat forever in the mud. An hour more of manhood.
II
Three o’clock had passed, and he knew that day to be lost. It was five o’clock and he had just lighted the gas when there was a knock at his door, and he discovered Minnie herself in the dark hall.
He was surprised and a little shocked; wondered what the landlady would think. Still, of course, he had to ask her in, and in she came, and sat down in his one chair. He was obliged to sit on the bed, an informality very distressing to him. He didn’t like this sort of thing at all; it wasn’t correct, it wasn’t well-bred.
He waited and waited for her to speak, but she remained silent, pale and rigid. And no wonder, considering what was in her head!
“I’ve brought it!” she said.