“I have no option but to agree to them. Beggars cannot be choosers.” The bitterness at his heart made itself apparent in his words.
“Your last statement embodies a great truth, and one which you would do well to bear in mind for the rest of your life,” said the baronet, with the nearest approach to a sneer he ever permitted himself. “It may, perhaps, be as well that I should recapitulate the terms of my proposition in order that there may be no after-mistake in the matter.”
When he had done so, he said:
“Do you pledge me your word to carry out the conditions as laid down by me, in their entirety?”
“I pledge you my word to that effect.”
Sir Gilbert rose and pushed back his chair.
“In that case, I need not detain you further. You know Page’s address. Send him at once a complete list of your liabilities, with all needful particulars to enable him to settle the same. He will receive my instructions in the course of to-morrow to advance you a hundred pounds, or rather, to make you a present of them, as I neither know, nor care to know, how you are off for ready money. As soon as you have decided where to bestow your worthless self, you will write Page to that effect. And now I am not aware that I have anything more to add.”
Alec had risen by this time and had picked up his hat and cloak. His eyes sought his father’s eyes and met them. They stood confronting each other thus while one might have counted six slowly. The younger man’s gaze was instinct with a grave questioning wistfulness. As plainly as speech could have done, it said:
“Father, have you no word of forgiveness for me before I go?”
But in Sir Gilbert’s chilly blue-grey eyes was to be read no faintest response. Had his son been a stranger, whom he had never before set eyes on, he could not have regarded him with more apparent indifference. With a heavy sigh that seemed to choke back a sob, Alec turned, and crossing to the window by which he had entered, opened it. A moment he paused on the threshold, and threw a backward glance over his shoulder.