“I’ve got a dirty little room in Westminster, 14 Barton Street. I go down to Glebeshire for Christmas, thank God. Good-night.”
He clumped away down the stairs. He had stayed a very short time, and Philip felt vaguely that, in some way or another, Uncle Tim had been disappointed in him. For what had he come? What had he wanted? Had the family sent him? Was the family watching him?
That sense that Philip had had during the early days in London suddenly returned. He felt, in the dark room, in the dark street, that the Trenchards were watching him. From the old man down to Henry they were watching him, waiting to see what he would do.
Did Uncle Tim think that he loved Katherine? Had he come to discover that?
Although it was early, the room was very cold and very dark. Philip knew that for an instant he was so afraid that he dared not look behind him.
“London’s a forest....”
And Katherine! At the thought of her he rose, defied all the Trenchards in the world, lit his lamp and pulled down the blinds. The smell of Uncle Tim’s tobacco was very strong in the room.
CHAPTER V
THE FINEST THING
When a stranger surveys the life of a family it is very certain that the really determining factor in the development of that group of persons will escape his notice. For instance, in surveying the Trenchards, Philip had disregarded Aunt Aggie.