He became silent, but he grew more courteous, more
thoughtful--watchful. She was very tired, poor child; there were
deep shadows under her eyes which looked weary and almost
mournful. So, when with a clanging of the engine bell they stopped
at the brilliantly lit hotel, he led her at once upstairs to the
parlour, and from there sent her up to her room, which was ready
for her.
"You must get a good sleep," he said kindly, and with his usual
firmness that was wont to preclude argument. "You are worn to
death. I'll have your supper sent to your room." The girl felt the
subtle change in his manner and her lip quivered for a vague
reason that neither knew, but, without a word, she obeyed him like
a child. He did not try again to kiss her. He merely took her
hand, placed his left over it, and with a gentle pressure, said:
"Good-night, little girl."
"Good-night," she faltered.
* * * * * * *
Resolutely, relentlessly, first, Hale cast up his accounts,
liabilities, resources, that night, to see what, under the least
favourable outcome, the balance left to him would be.
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