The boy turned and fled.
His mother and sister stood waiting at the foot of the stairs.
“Well?”
“It’s no good. I simply can’t tell him we want him to go.”
“No, my dear. I understand.”
“Oh! but, Mother——! Jack, you must.”
“I can’t; I’m going to put them off.” Seizing his hat, he ran. He ran among small houses in the evening mist, trying to invent. At the corner of the long row of little villas he rang a bell.
“Can I see Miss Mabel?”
“She’s dressing, sir. Will you come in?”