When the heavy Sunday dinner was over, and Drusilla had gone out for the afternoon, Lary and Theodora walked hand in hand to the shop behind the vegetable garden. A minute later, Judith saw the child flitting across the alley in the direction of the Stevens home. She knew that now Larimore Trench would come to her.
Her heart stood still and all her senses swam.
When, after an interminable period of waiting—how stupid the clock that measures our travail by its rigid tape of minutes!—the man stood before her, she saw that his face was white with grief and his hands shook.
“Are you willing to come to us? All the manhood has gone out of me. I can’t go through it alone.”
“Yes, Lary.” And they crossed the lawn together.
III
The library blinds were drawn and the room was hot and still. Eileen lay back in the chaise longue, her eyes half closed, her lips pouting surlily. Her father paced the floor, his blue eyes lost in shadow.
“Mrs. Ascott,” he began in a choked voice, “you know the pitiful thing that has come upon us. You have been a good neighbour, and we come to you for advice. We are simple people, and my wife feels that you....” He finished the sentence with his deep, appealing eyes. “I wanted to go to Mr. Marksley and insist that his son make restitution.”
“Yes!” Lavinia screamed, the remnant of her self-control tearing to tatters as she looked at her daughter, “and that idiot of a girl threatening to kill herself if we go a step.”
“I won’t be married to any man at the point of a gun—as long as there is a river in Springdale where people can be drowned.”