He would do nothing mean and ungentlemanly. A
policy of waiting and diplomacy should be tried. Ferrier might be of
some use. But, if nothing availed, he must marry and make the best of
it. He wondered to what charitable societies his mother would leave
her money!
Slowly he strolled back along the hill. That dim light, high up on the
shrouded walls of Beechcote, seemed to go with him, softly, insistently
reminding him of Diana. The thought of her moved him deeply. He longed
to have her in his arms, to comfort her, to feel her dependent on him
for the recovery of joy and vitality. It was only by an obstinate and
eager dwelling upon her sweetness and charm that he could protect
himself against the rise of an invading wave of repugnance and
depression; the same repugnance, the same instinctive longing to escape,
which he had always felt, as boy or man, in the presence of sickness, or
death, or mourning.
* * * * *
Marsham had been long asleep in his queer little room at "The Green
Man." The last lights were out in the village, and the moon had set.
Diana stole out of bed; Muriel must not hear her, Muriel whose eyes were
already so tired and tear-worn with another's grief.
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