could not fix her mouth! The distracted young
man tossed upon his pillow and went elsewhere.
Distinctly he could remember her little feet with
those silver buckles, quite different from any other
feet. And she held herself slim and supple.
Held herself? Why, good heavens! she was tall,
and he had been thinking of her as short! This
was appalling! He might meet her and pass her
by. He might ... he rushed into troubled slumber.
The night gave him little rest. Whilst his body
lay heavy, his brain, feverishly active, chased through
the hours glimpses of the queen of his adventure.
By early morning he was prodded into consciousness,
and awaked to find himself instantly confronted with
a terrible affair. Into his life, so he assured
himself, had come a serious interest such as that
which the Dean had hoped for him.
Here, lying abed with fresh morning smiling in through
the open window, for the first time he looked forward,
following the face he had pursued through his dreams,
into the future. Its chambers he found ghastly
barren. He visualised it as a vast unfurnished
house. To the merry eye with which two days ago
he had looked upon the world, the picture, had he
then conjured it, would have given him no gloom.
He would have thought it a fine thing, this empty
house that was his own--empty, but representing freedom.
The matter was different now. Into this empty
house had danced the girl. Her gay presence discovered
its barrenness. There was not a chair on which
she could sit, not a dish in the larder.
George recalled that tight little practice at Runnygate
that might be had for 400 pounds; went down to breakfast
rehearsing a scene with his uncle; was moody through
the meal.
The breakfast dragged past its close. Mr. Marrapit
spoke. “The moments fly,” he observed.
Margaret said earnestly: “Oh, yes, father.”
“I was addressing George.”
“Ur!” said George, suddenly aroused.
Mr. Marrapit looked at his watch; repeated his observation.
George read his meaning. “I thought of
going up by the later train to-day,” he explained.
“A dangerous thought. Crush it.”
Mr. Marrapit continued: “Margaret, Mrs.
Major, I observe you have concluded”; and when
the two had withdrawn addressed himself again to George:
“A dangerous thought. You recall our conversation
of the day before yesterday?”
“Perfectly.”
“Yet by later trains, by idleness, you deliberately
imperil your future?”
George did not answer the question. This was
the very opportunity for which he had wished.
“I would like to talk about my future,”
he said.
“I dare not dwell upon it,” replied Mr.
Marrapit.
“I have to. I shall pass all right this
time. I want to know—the fact is,
sir, I know I have slacked in the past; I am a man
now, and I—I regret it. I fully realise
my responsibilities. You may rely that I shall
make a certainty of the October examination.”
