He meant to set off, simply as he was; they could send his things after him. If he indulged in any pictures of the future, he did, perhaps, see himself returning to Polchester in a year's time or so, as the editor of the most remarkable of London's new periodicals, received by his father with enthusiasm, and even Annie admitted into the family with approval. Of course, they could not return here to live...it would be only a visit.... At that sudden vision of Annie and his father face to face, that vision faded; no, this was the end of the old life. He must face that, set his shoulders square to it, steel his heart to it....
That last luncheon was the strangest meal that he had ever known. So strange because it was so usual--so ordinary! Roast chicken and apple tart; his mother sitting at the end of the table, watching, as she had watched through so many years, that everything went right, her little, tight, expressionless face, the mouth set to give the right answers to the right questions, her eyes veiled.... His mind flew back to that strange talk in the dark room across the candle-lit table. She had been hysterical that night, over-tired, had not known what she was saying. Well, she could never leave his father now, now when he was gone. His flight settled that.
"What are you doing this afternoon, Falk?"
"Why, mother?"
"I only wondered. I have to go to the Deanery about this Jubilee committee. I thought you might walk up there with me. About four."
"I don't think I'll be back in time, mother; I'm going out Salis Coombe way to see a fellow."
He saw Joan, looking so pretty, sitting opposite to him. How she had grown lately! Putting her hair up made her seem almost a woman. But what a child in the grown-up dress with the high puffed sleeves, her baby-face laughing at him over the high stiff collar; a pretty dress, though, that dark blue stuff with the white stripes.... Why had he never considered Joan? She had never meant anything to him at all. Now, when he was going, it seemed to him suddenly that he might have made a friend of her during all these years. She was a good girl, kind, good-natured, jolly.
She, too, was talking about the Jubilee--about some committee that she was on and some flags that they were making. How exciting to them all the Jubilee was, and how unimportant to him!
Some book she was talking about. "...the new woman at the Library is so nice. She let me have it at once. It's The Massarenes, mother, darling, by Ouida. The girls say it's lovely."
"I've heard of it, dear. Mrs. Sampson was talking about it. She says it's not a nice book at all. I don't think father would like you to read it."