“You see, mother, it was nothing, after all,” he said, going up to her as she sat before the fire.
She looked up, saw his face, and then smiled happily.
“I’m so glad, Jack,” she answered, springing to her feet and kissing him. “You have no idea how you looked when I saw you there on the landing. I thought you were really—quite—but quite, quite, you know, my dear boy.”
She shook her head, still smiling, and holding both his hands.
“I’m going for a bit of a walk before dinner,” he said. “Then we’ll have a quiet evening together, and I shall go to bed early.”
“That’s right. The walk will do you good. You’re quite wonderful, Jack!” She laughed outright—he looked so perfectly sober. “Don’t drink any more whiskey to-day!” she added, not half in earnest.
“Never fear!” And he laughed too, without any suspicion of himself.
He walked rapidly down the street in the warm glow of the evening, heedless of the direction he took. By fate or by habit, he found himself a quarter of an hour later opposite to Alexander Lauderdale’s house. He paused, reflected a moment, then ascended the steps and rang the bell.
“Is Miss Katharine at home?” he enquired of the girl who opened the door.
“Yes, sir. She came in a moment ago.”