Derek roused himself with an effort. His face was drawn and gloomy. He sat down at the writing-table, and took out his check-book. There was silence for a moment, broken only by the scratching of the pen. Parker took the check and left the room.
“Now, perhaps,” said Lady Underhill, “you will admit that I was right!” She spoke in almost an awed voice, for this occurrence at just this moment seemed to her very like a direct answer to prayer. “You can’t hesitate now! You must free yourself from this detestable entanglement!”
Derek rose without speaking. He took his coat and hat from where they lay on a chair.
“Derek! You will! Say you will!”
Derek put on his coat.
“Derek!”
“For heaven’s sake, leave me alone, mother. I want to think.”
“Very well. I will leave you to think it over, then.” Lady Underhill moved to the door. At the door she paused for a moment, and seemed about to speak again, but her mouth closed resolutely. She was a shrewd woman, and knew that the art of life is to know when to stop talking. What words have accomplished, too many words can undo.
“Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, mother.”