"
"It is so bad for me, father, that, when I have gone through it, I
shall be at the end of my strength. I shall run away from the after
consequences."
"What do you mean?"
"I shall accept Mrs. Horisoff's invitation and go to Paris. It is
deserting you, but----"
Dr. Derwent wore a doubtful look; he pondered, and began to pace the
floor.
"We must think about that."
Though her own mind was quite made up, Irene did not see fit to say
more at this juncture. She rose. Her father continued moving hither
and thither, his hands behind his back, seemingly oblivious of her
presence. To him, the trouble seemed only just beginning, and he was
not at all sure what the end would be.
"Jacks will come this evening, I suppose?" he threw out, as Irene
approached the door.
"Perhaps this afternoon."
He looked at her with sympathy, with apprehension. Irene
endeavouring to smile in reply, passed from his view.
Olga had gone out, merely saying that she wished to see a friend,
and that she might not be back to luncheon. She did not return.
Father and daughter were alone together at the meal. Contrary to
Irene's expectation, the Doctor had become almost cheerful; he made
one or two quiet jokes in the old way, of course on any subject but
that which filled their minds, and his behaviour was marked with an
unusual gentleness. Irene was so moved by grateful feeling, that now
and then she could not trust her voice.
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