Then, so cruelly, before he had made his great renunciation, came Frances and the shameful and horrible revelation. He was forced to go away with Minnie; he couldn’t desert her then, when she was so utterly alone. He tried to comfort her a little, and found it only too easy. She wasn’t really very much ashamed or grieved. She was willing, eager, to take up life with him again, the same slipshod and futile life of their former years. She looked forward happily to another little house, more amazing financial adventures, and, quite frankly, a subsidy from Mr. Petersen.
“He’d be glad!” she told Lionel, “On account of little Robert. And he has plenty of money. He could easily spare two or three thousand a year.”
That was the final straw. Lionel said nothing against her scheme; he saw her decently settled in a respectable boarding-house, well-supplied with money salvaged from Mr. Petersen’s housekeeping allowance; then he went away, disappeared. He left her a note, to say that he was going to enlist, but she never quite knew what became of him.
BOOK FIVE: THE VICTORIOUS CONCLUSION
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I
Mr. Petersen and Frances lingered at the table long after the meal was finished. Partly from fatigue, partly from embarrassment, neither of them cared to suggest getting up. For how were they to spend the evening? They couldn’t sit down and read, as if nothing had happened, and certainly they couldn’t talk. They would both have been delighted never to exchange another word.
There was an unusual air of peace and order. Sandra and the baby were in bed and asleep, wisely and lovingly managed by Frances. Mr. Petersen had gone up to look at them in their cribs, clean, quiet and happy. Mrs. Hansen was working away, without friction.