Anger was struggling in her voice with apprehension. She looked suspiciously at her son.
"Barnaby—" she said emphatically, "if this is Julia's doing—I'll never forgive either of you!"
He had got on his feet, and stood uncertainly, as if measuring his strength. The look on his face struck her into silence.
"Don't couple me with Julia," he said, setting his teeth. The sweat was glistening like dew on his forehead. "Poor little girl ... poor little girl.... So she's gone. Why, what's the matter with me? What an incapable fool I am!—How am I to go and find her if I can't—walk—straight across a room—?"
CHAPTER XII
All London was placarded with that American play.
It ran through the streets in big letters on the omnibuses; it walked in tilting lines in the gutter; it stared out from all the hoardings with the wide smile of its principal actress ... Adelaide Fish.
And it was the gaudy poster that startled Susan out of the unhappy listlessness that had fallen on her. Facing her suddenly it arrested her wandering step.
Adelaide Fish.... Had the world stood still after all, and was it this morning that she had had a letter...?