“So after all, Sir Deryck,” added Lady Ingleby, “Peter was right.”
“Yes,” said the doctor, “little Peter was not mistaken.”
“Had I remembered him, I might have doubted the telegram,” remarked Lady Ingleby. “What can have aroused Billy’s suspicions?”
“Like Peter,” said the doctor, “Billy had, from the first, felt very sure. Do not mention to him that I told you the doubts originated with him. He is a sensitive lad, and the whole thing has greatly distressed him.”
“Dear Billy,” said Lady Ingleby.
The doctor glanced at the clock, and buttoned his coat. He had one minute to spare.
“My friend,” he said, “a second time I have come as the bearer of evil tidings.”
“Not evil,” replied Myra, in a tone of hopeless sadness. “This is not a world to which we could possibly desire the return of one we love.”
“There is nothing wrong with the world,” said the doctor. “Our individual heaven or hell is brought about by our own actions.”
“Or by the actions of others,” amended Lady Ingleby, bitterly.