Philip should be punished, even though he was her son—Philip, who had befouled a name which was adorned with military honors, a name on which there had up to now been no stain.
Phyllis was now a by-word in Hastings. Her conduct was discussed at every tea-table. And this was Philip’s doing—Philip, who had had the impertinence to dictate to his mother—to dictate and criticize.
No, even for Annie’s sake, Philip should not be spared.
Mrs. Barrimore, watching the stern, calm face, saw that she had nothing to hope, and, mother-like, began in her heart to hate Phyllis, who had brought her boy to such a pass. Of course, it was the fault of the girl. She had led Philip on. She had always been a flirt. Surely in justice Colonel Lane ought to remember that!
But she said nothing.
Colonel Lane took his hat and went out.
He walked on the West Hill for hours.
Boys were still playing about on the grass, though their football was over.
The moon, big and round, flooded the sea with silver light.
The riding-lights of the fishing-boats looked like jewels out beyond the harbor.