“Mine,” she said, “was Rachel Bentley. I’m married now. I recognized you at once. I was so interested coming along. I hope nothing has——”
“Oh, no,” said he, smiling, “I never had any money, you know. I drifted into this. I like it.”
“I only thought,” she said vaguely. “I mean— Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’m glad it isn’t that. Good-by.”
She seemed embarrassed by her own generous impulse, and it was a relief to him when she turned away. He waited for a moment to see if it was her own house. She opened the door with a key. He took note of the number, and, as he passed, of the cab-rank at the end of the road.
It was some time before he knew why he had done this, many hours before he was confronted with the image of Cathleen Bentley, in the woods of Scotland; Cathleen shaking the bracken from her hair, smiling up at him in the musing, perplexed happiness of her youth.
[XI
VISION]
πολλάς δ’οδους ἐλθοντα ϕροντιδος πλανοις
THERE came a letter from Joe to say that he had obtained work with a good firm within a week of landing, and would soon be able to save or borrow enough to pay for his wife and children to join him. Rita, who had sunk into a despondent lethargy, was roused to excitement and began to thrill the children with tales of the adventure before them. She quickly recovered her health and energy, and wrested the control of her affairs from Ann, who did not like it. Feeling ran high, and things came to such a pass that the two women quarreled, and Rita so far forgot herself as to fling a sneer about marriage-lines at her friend. Ann came running to René for comfort, and tried to enrage him at the tale of such base ingratitude. He was not to be enraged, however, for he had been pondering the subject of gratitude and come to the conclusion that he who lays claim to it forfeits it. He tried to explain to Ann that she had overdone her kindness and should have known the moment to withdraw. She was dismayed.