“My child,” he cried, softly, “my poor child!” And she smiled and fingered the straw hat in her lap.
“Will you read my father’s papers for me?” she said.
“Yes—yes—if you wish. Yes, indeed!” After a moment he said: “How long have you been blind?”
IV
That evening, at dusk, Lansing came into the club, and went directly to his room. He carried a small, shabby satchel; and when he had locked his door he opened the satchel and drew from it a flat steel box.
For half an hour he sat by his open window in the quiet starlight, considering the box, turning it over and over in his hands. At length he opened his trunk, placed the box inside, locked the trunk, and noiselessly left the room.
He encountered Coursay in the hall, and started to pass him with an abstracted nod, then changed his mind and slipped his arm through the arm of his young kinsman.
“Thought you meant to cut me,” said Coursay, half laughing, half in earnest.
“Why?” Lansing stopped short; then, “Oh, because you played the fool with Agatha in the canoe? You two will find yourselves in a crankier craft than that if you don’t look sharp.”
“You have an ugly way of putting it,” began Coursay. But Lansing scowled and said: