“I’ll try,” said Kit. “It’s going to be hard.”
Agatha touched him gently. “For you to see you were selfish and your selfishness cost Evelyn much would be harder. You must take the knock. There is no other plan.”
She went off, and Kit brooded. He thought Agatha did not urge him to be generous because, in the circumstances, generosity, so to speak, was conventional. Agatha did not follow old-fashioned rules, and she was not daunted by a risk. She wanted him to give up Evelyn, but not because others might think he ought. Agatha thought he ought. Well, Kit agreed, and he tried for resignation.
CHAPTER VII
EVELYN CONQUERS
The red sunset shone behind the trees and the light was going. A lamp burned in Mrs. Haigh’s drawing-room, and Kit, at the gate, smelt flowers and freshly mown grass. He had borne some strain, and now he must fight his hardest fight; he went slowly up the path.
In the east the sunset touched the moor’s high top; the lower slopes were dusky blue. Across the clipped hedge the river shone with faint reflections and brawled across the stones. In the hedge was a nook and an old stone bench where Evelyn and Kit had talked on languid summer afternoons.
Kit had been happy in the garden, and although he was young he had felt something of its tranquil charm. Tranquillity, however, was not for him, and the happy days were gone. Soon he must go down the path, and he would not come back.
A white figure crossed the shadowy terrace and waved from the steps. Kit knew Evelyn watched for him, and when he advanced his heart beat. Evelyn put her hand on his arm and steered him to the bench. Kit stopped by the clipped hedge and waited. All was quiet, and only the faint beam from the window marked the house.
“I know all, Kit,” said Evelyn. “Alan Carson told mother.”
Kit said nothing. Since Alan had enlightened Mrs. Haigh, he thought her allowing Evelyn to join him in the garden strange. He did not doubt she knew where her daughter went.