He tried to think of next day’s meeting with his mother. “No danger... I assure you there’s nothing to worry about! Ask Gaisford, if you don’t believe me...” And then, as in a careless postscript: “Of course, there can be no question of marrying. Just as well we found out in time, wasn’t it?” Would his mother be deceived? He would have to tell her in that quiet, confidential hour when his father had gone to bed; he would surely tell her in his father’s drowsy, smoke-laden work-room where he had already boasted—prematurely enough to set God scheming against him—that he would make an effort to win, that he would win, that he had won....
If indeed he had won, it was a secret victory; and Raney alone knew whom he had met and overcome....
The sobbing still haunted him. If Ivy dreaded the appeal, how could she go on crying?
He threw aside the pillows and walked uncertainly to the door. His fingers went to the handle and drew back without touching it, went forward again, tried and turned. The door opened, and he could hear muffled sobbing, no longer imaginary. He walked on tip-toe half-way across the hall, then returned and stood listening in the open door-way. Then he closed the door and locked it.
The sobbing grew fainter and died away.
THE END
Transcriber’s notes
1. Silently corrected typographical errors and inconsistencies; retained non-standard spelling.
2. Retained non-standard punctuation and ellipses.