He could count on some twenty pairs of fists in the room, if it came to that point; but he was allowed to depart unmolested.
On the way home he called at the hospital. There was no change in Alice’s condition.
The next day he remained at home till it was time to start for Clerkenwell Green. He was all but worn out, and there was nothing of any use to be done before the meeting assembled. Adela went for him to the hospital and brought back still the same report. He ate fairly well of his midday dinner, seeming somewhat calmer. Adela, foreseeing his main danger, begged him to address the people without anger, assured him that a dignified self-possession would go much farther than any amount of blustering. He was induced to promise that he would follow her advice.
He purposed walking to the Green; the exercise would perhaps keep his nerves in order. When it was time to start, he took Adela’s hand, and for a second time kissed it. She made an effort over herself and held her lips to him. The ‘good-bye’ was exchanged, with a word of strengthening from Adela; but still he did not go. He was endeavouring to speak.
‘I don’t think I’ve thanked you half enough,’ he said at length, ‘for what you did on Friday night.’
‘Yes, more than enough,’ was the reply.
‘You make little of it, but it’s a thing very few women would have done. And it was hard for you, because you’re a lady.’
‘No less a woman,’ murmured Adela, her head bowed.
‘And a good woman—I believe with all my heart. I want to ask you to forgive me—for things I once said to you. I was a brute. Perhaps if I had been brought up in the same kind of way that you were—that’s the difference between us, you see. But try if you can to forget it. I’ll never think anything but good of you as long as I live.’
She could not reply, for a great sob was choking her. She pressed his band; the tears broke from her eyes as she turned away.