‘No, he is not fortunate,’ she said, ‘for he cannot get away at all. I am going alone—at least, mother and I are going.’
‘And your little boy of course?’
Dot yawned with discernible difficulty.
‘Oh,’ she said lightly, ‘children block the [p 136] ]road to success, besides I must leave him as compensation to my husband while I hunt for fame.’
He was too amazed to speak. Larrie had struck him as certainly the one other man in the world capable of fully appreciating the worshipfulness of this dear little girl. And to hear he was content to part with her like this after only eighteen months!
He felt a sudden contempt for Larrie and an overwhelming sorrow for himself; what a very sweet little child she was with those soft flushed cheeks and wide darkening eyes! And to think there was a lifetime of hunger for one man because he could never touch one of those soft, boyish curls, and the other who had all of her, held her so lightly.
‘I suppose you think it is a mad quest after my failure,’ she said, finding him silent.
But he disclaimed that. He was as assured of her ultimate success as ever, and knew that it was only through nervousness that she had failed to win immediate recognition. As [p 137] ]it was, several of the best critics had spoken of her hopefully.
‘No, you will succeed of course,’ he said, quietly. He did not look at her, he was thinking, wondering whether he should be able to do without travelling too when Australia no longer held her.
Then he wished hair shirts were sold by modern mercers, and thanked God she was going. He talked cheerfully of the route, advised the best places for study, the best masters, offered letters of introduction, and all manner of things.