“No; I don't give her a home—yet,” said Bob very quietly. “But I very soon will, I assure you; and meanwhile, she earns a good deal more than her keep in her father's house. You can't treat her worse than your servants—”
Cecilia suddenly turned to him.
“Ah, don't, Bob darling. It doesn't matter—truly—not a bit.” With the end of the long penance before her, it seemed beyond the power of the angry woman in the doorway to hurt her much. What she could not bear was that their happy evening should be spoiled by hard and cruel words at its close. Bob's face, that had been so merry, was sterner than she had ever seen it, all its boyishness gone. She put up her own face, and kissed him.
“Good night—you mustn't stay any longer. I'll be all right.” She whispered a few quick words of French, begging him to go, and Bob, though unwillingly, gave in.
“All right,” he said. “Go to bed, little 'un. I'll do as I promised about writing.” He saluted Mrs. Rainham stiffly. “You'll remember, Mrs. Rainham, that she stayed out solely at my wish—I take full responsibility, and I'll be ready to tell my father so.” The door closed behind Cecilia, and he strode away down the street, biting his lip. He felt abominably as though he had deserted the little sister—and yet, what else could he do? One could not remain for ever, brawling on a doorstep at midnight—and Tommy had begged him to go. Still—
“Hang it!” he said viciously. “If she were only a decent Hun to fight!”
In the grim house in Lancaster Gate Cecilia was facing the music alone. She listened unmoved, as she had listened many times before, to the catalogue of her sins and misdeeds—only she had never seen her stepmother quite so angry. Finally, a door above opened, and Mark Rainham looked out, his dull, colourless face weakly irritable.
“I wish you'd stop that noise, and let the girl go to bed,” he said. “Come here, Cecilia.”
She went to him hesitating, and he looked at her with a spark of compassion. Then he kissed her.
“Good night,” he said, as though he had called her to him simply to say it, and not to separate her from the furious woman who stood looking at them. “Run off to bed, now—no more talking.” Cecilia ran upstairs obediently. Behind her, as she neared her attic, she heard her stepmother's voice break out anew.