"At once."
He reached for his coat and turned off the lights. The two went out arm and arm into the March night. The wind was still rising.
"It's only half-past nine, and Mrs. Googe will be up; she is a busy woman."
"Tell me—" he drew his breath short—"what has my mother done all these years—how has she lived?"
"As every true woman lives—doing her full duty day by day, living in hope of this joy."
"But I mean what has she done to live—to provide for herself; she has kept the house?"
"To be sure, and by her own exertions. She has never been willing to accept pecuniary aid from any friend, not even from Mr. Buzzby, or the Colonel. I am in a position to know that Mr. Van Ostend did his best to persuade her to accept something just as a loan."
"But what has she been doing?"
"She has been taking the quarrymen for meals the last six years, Champney—at times she has had their families to board with her, as many as the house could accommodate."
The arm which his own held was withdrawn with a jerk. Champney Googe faced him: they were on the new iron bridge over the Rothel.