“Ah went. Ah thought if Ca’line went, too, it might make an odd number. Ah told Mr. Anson that an old friend of the family had met with an accident and that you and Ca’line had gone to him.”
“That was nice of you!” said Nick, gratefully. “Then it’s all right, is it?”
“As far as Mr. Anson goes. But Ah do think.... Boy, you don’t know how you worry me.”
He looked at her, with quite his old smile.
“No!” he said. “I will not tell you! Not yet!”
II
It was the first time in years that he had stopped away from his office. But he was too sternly intent upon his new purpose to be able to think of anything else. He sat in his study, smoking a cigar, until it seemed to him a reasonable hour, and then set out.
He was very nervous; more so than he realised. And his descent into that old neighbourhood revived a hundred memories to oppress him. He fancied he saw her ghost, its arms full of bundles, running through Fourth Street....
“The best of her life wasted!” he said to himself, over and over. It gave him courage.
He needed courage, too. He was very much afraid of Lawrence; not, of course, in a physical sense, but because Lawrence had any number of mysterious advantages. Lawrence was blind and helpless, Lawrence was Rosaleen’s lawful husband, Lawrence was infinitely more sophisticated and subtle than himself.... A formidable adversary. He made no plan of what he should say; with such a person it was not possible, for you couldn’t know in what humour you would catch him. He resolved simply to keep his temper and to flinch at nothing.