After all his straightforward reasoning during the space of two hours, he sprang from his seat crying, “I’ll not do it—I’ll not do it!”
He walked about his room for an hour, repeating every now and again the words, “I’ll not do it—I’ll not do it!”
In the course of another hour, he turned on his electric lamp, and wrote a note of half a dozen lines to Mr Playdell, telling him that, on second thoughts, he would not trouble him the next day. Then he wrote an equally short note to Beatrice, telling her that he thought it would be advisable to have a further talk with her before carrying out the plan which he had suggested to her for the next day. He put each note into its cover; but when about to affix stamps to them, he found that his stamp-drawer was empty. This was not a serious matter; he was going to his club to dine, and he knew that he could get stamps from the hall-porter.
He felt very much lighter at heart leaving his rooms than he had felt on entering some hours before. He felt that he had been engaged in a severe conflict, and that he had got the better of his adversary.
At the door of the club he found Mr. Durdan standing somewhat vacantly. He brightened up at the appearance of Harold.
“I’ve just been trying to catch some companionable fellow to dine with me,” he cried.
“I’m sorry that I can’t congratulate you upon finding one,” said Harold.
“Then I congratulate myself,” said Mr. Durdan, brightly. “You’re the most companionable man that I know in town at present.”
“Ah, then you’re not aware of the fact that Edmund Airey is here just now,” said Harold with a shrewd laugh.
“Edmund Airey? Edmund Airey?” said Mr. Durdan. “Let me tell you that your friend Edmund Airey is——”