“No, no, no. Pray go—pray go,” sobbed the poor woman. “Oh, Mr Trethick! Mr Trethick! what have I done that you should treat me so?”
“There, for heaven’s sake, don’t you begin,” cried Geoffrey. “I can bear no more. You people here are mad. There, I’ll rid you of my presence, Mrs Mullion. I’ll go and put up some where else till you have come to your senses, and then perhaps—no, I cannot come back here. I’m going down to Rumsey’s, and I’ll send him up. Poor old fellow?” he said; and he came a step towards where, with half-closed eyes, Uncle Paul sat back, panting heavily; but at the first step forward he shrank away with such a look of loathing that Geoffrey strode into the passage, seized his hat, and went off across the garden, and down the cliff path to send up Dr Rumsey to the stricken old man.
Chapter Thirty Nine.
More Unpleasantries.
Dr Rumsey was in, Mrs Rumsey said, but he was engaged. She would give Mr Trethick’s message, and she turned sharply round and shut the door.
“Confound the woman,” exclaimed Geoffrey, frowning, and he went off towards the mine.
His way lay through the principal street, and as he was passing the hotel it suddenly struck him that he had had a terrible night, and that he was half-starved.
“The engine won’t work without coal,” he said, with a bitter laugh. “I must have breakfast,” and, going in, he ordered the meal, ate heartily, and then, feeling refreshed and brighter, he hesitated as to what he should do—go down to the mine or walk across to Gwennas.