Philip watched her critically. His face was set and pale.
Colonel Lane, who had followed Mrs. Barrimore, called his daughter, bade a hasty good-night to his friends, and went away hurriedly.
“H’m!” said Uncle Robert. “There seems to be a good deal of grumpiness in the air to-night.”
Philip waited till he heard the click of the gate, then he took up his hat and went out.
“Gone to make up the ‘tiff,’ I suppose,” commented Uncle Robert. “Have a whisky, Dan?”
But Philip had gone out to walk alone on the West Hill. His mind was in a tumult.
CHAPTER X
FOR A SON’S SAKE
When Philip Barrimore reached the West Hill he strode along towards the entrance to St. Clement’s Caves and stood bare-headed near the small wooden lighthouse looking down at the Old Town; at the moonlit sea, where the riding lights of the fishing fleet shone like jewels; at the ruby light at the end of the long arm of the unfinished harbor wall. Very peaceful, very lovely it all looked under the moon; but Philip’s heart was full of unrest and resentment. How dared the Colonel!
How could his mother! how could she!
He turned his face in the direction of the ruined castle.