I went into the drawing-room, and found Frank and Johnny both there, with
Jane and Percy. So that dreadful Jew must have gone.
I told Frank that Clare was in a terrible state, and entrusted her to his care. Frank is a good unselfish brother, and he went to look after her.
Johnny, silent and troubled, and looking as if death was out of his line, though, Heaven knows, he had seen enough of it during the last five years, was fidgeting awkwardly about the room. His awkwardness was, no doubt, partly due to the fact that he had never much cared for Oliver. This does make things awkward, in the presence of the Great Silencer.
Percy had to leave us now, in order to go to the Haste and see about things there. He said he would be back in the afternoon. He would, of course, take over the business of making the last sad arrangements, which Jane called, rather crudely, 'seeing about the funeral'; the twins would always call spades 'spades.'
Presently I made the suggestion which I had for some time had in my mind.
'May I, dear?' I asked very softly, half rising.
Jane rose, too.
'See Oliver, you mean? Oh, yes. He's in his room.'
I motioned her back. 'Not you, darling. Johnny will take me.'
Johnny didn't want to much, I think; it is the sort of strain on the emotions that he dislikes, but he came with me.