It was late, but he had not
troubled to light a lamp. He sat for hours looking out into the
shadows. A new responsibility, indeed, had come into life. He was
powerless to grapple with it. The grotesqueness of the situation
appalled him. How could he plan or dream like other men when the
measure of the child's existence, as of his own, could be counted by
weeks? For the first time since his emancipation he looked back into
the past without a shudder. If one had realized, if one had only taken
a little pains, would it not have been possible to have escaped from the
life of bondage by less violent but more permanent means? It was only
the impulse which was lacking. He sat dreaming there until he fell into
a deep sleep.
CHAPTER XXII
DOUBTS
Mr. Bomford in his town clothes was a strikingly adequate reflection of
the fashion of the times. From the tips of his patent boots, his neatly
tied black satin tie, his waistcoat with its immaculate white slip, to
his glossy silk hat, he was an entirely satisfactory reproduction. The
caretaker who admitted him to Burton's rooms sighed as she let him in.
He represented exactly her ideal of a gentleman.
"Mr. Burton and the little boy are both in the sitting-room, sir," she
announced, opening the door.
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