"I am only a woman
and not accustomed to thinking everything out on the spur of the moment;
but I cannot change my mind. Not now, at least."
"And you think I'd better not come in to-night?"
"To-night!" she gasped. "Not for WEEKS! Papa would----"
"But Margaret," he urged plaintively, "how can you blame me for----"
"I have not used the word 'blame,'" she interrupted. "But I must insist
that for your carelessness to--to wreak such havoc--cannot fail to--to
lessen my confidence in your powers of judgment. I cannot change my
convictions in this matter--not to-night--and I cannot remain here
another instant. The poor child may need me. Robert, good-night."
With chill dignity she withdrew, entered the house, and returned to the
sick-room, leaving the young man in outer darkness to brood upon his
crime--and upon Penrod.
That sincere invalid became convalescent upon the third day; and a
week elapsed, then, before he found an opportunity to leave the house
unaccompanied--save by Duke. But at last he set forth and approached the
Jones neighbourhood in high spirits, pleasantly conscious of his pallor,
hollow cheeks, and other perquisites of illness provocative of interest.
One thought troubled him a little because it gave him a sense of
inferiority to a rival. He believed, against his will, that Maurice
Levy could have successfully eaten chocolate-creams, licorice sticks,
lemon-drops, jaw-breakers, peanuts, waffles, lobster croquettes,
sardines, cinnamon-drops, watermelon, pickles, popcorn, ice-cream
and sausage with raspberry lemonade and cider.
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