"My symbol," she said softly.
There were tears in Hetty's eyes.
Leslie did not turn up at his father's place in the High Street that night until Booth was safely out of the way. He spent a dismal evening at the boat club.
His father and mother were in the library when he came in at half-past ten. From a dark corner of the garden he had witnessed Booth's early departure. Vivian had gone down to the gate in the low-lying hedge with her visitor. She came in a moment after Leslie's entrance.
"Hello, Les," she said, bending an inquiring eye upon him. "Isn't this early for you?"
Her brother was standing near the fireplace.
"There's a heavy dew falling, Mater," he said gruffly. "Shan't I touch a match to the kindling?"
His mother came over to him quickly, and laid her hand on his arm.
"Your coat is damp," she said anxiously. "Yes, light the fire."
"It's very warm in this room," said Mr. Wrandall, looking up from his book. They were always doing something for Leslie's comfort.