No other arrangement seemed endurable or possible to him.
And yet, while his flesh cried out in the agony of its repulsion, it knew that in the years, the terrible, interminable years before them, it could not be as he had planned. There would be a will stronger than his own will that would not be frustrated.
And he told himself that he could have borne it if it had not been for that.
There was a knocking at the door. The handle turned, and through the slender opening which was all she dared make, Mrs. Ransome spoke to her son.
"Ranny, do you know you've left the front door open? Who's that coughing?" she said.
Neither of them answered.
"Hasn't Winny gone yet? You shouldn't keep her out so late, dear. It's time both of you were in bed."
At that he rose and went to her.
Presently they could be heard moving Stanny's little cot into his grandmother's room.