But Perrin was too greatly elated to pay very much attention to these speeches. He had heard nothing. He advanced up the long room with a smile and his head held high, his gown swinging behind him.
They had heard the door open and now they stood almost in a line, by the fire, watching him come up the room. They were quite silent and made no movement. They watched him.
He was stopped in his advance, suddenly, by their faces. They were watching him, he thought, curiously.
His confidence began to leave him.
“It's nearly chapel time,” he said uneasily. “Hum! ha!”
There was no answer.
“Well, Birkland, I 've put your words into deeds, haven't I? Yes, indeed, hum, ha. I thought it an admirable opportunity.” He stopped again.
Birkland murmured something. West and Comber had turned away and were looking at the papers.
Perrin felt that he was growing angry. It was so like them to grudge him any little importance that he might have obtained. They were jealous, of course, and wished that they had had the courage to step forward. They; had missed their opportunity and were indignant with him now because he had seized his—well!
“Yes,” he said, the color mounting to his cheeks; “I flatter myself that something will come of it. It will be difficult for them, I think, to disregard that altogether—hum—yes.”