“Yes.”
Denham's grave eyes met Roy's, with an expression which somehow sent Roy's heart down and down into his very shoes. The boy sat and stared—aghast and wordless.
“I want you to know beforehand, not to be taken by surprise. When a thing has to be, it's no use making a fuss. For your mother's sake you must bear it bravely.”
Roy had grown pale, and his gaze spoke of dismay and incredulity.
“But you don't mean—you! Not you!”
“Yes.”
“Den!”
“It is not difficult to find a cause. You see, we have held aloof from Wirion's set, and have declined his invitations. And I have managed to hold back one or two young fellows from those miserable gaming-tables. No doubt he prefers to have me out of the way for a while. It may be only for a few weeks. But——”
Roy walked to the window, and stood with his back to Denham. Silence lasted fully three minutes. Denham remained where he was, looking sadly enough towards the boy. He had much to do, but Roy was his first consideration; and he knew from his own sensations what the parting would be to the other.