His old eyes lighted up
with pride and something else--possibly love. The clock on the
mantelpiece struck eleven. Jack looked at it thoughtfully, then he
rose.
"I must not keep you any longer," he said, somewhat stiffly.
Sir John rose also.
"I dare say you are tired; you need rest. In some ways you look
stronger, in others you look fagged and pulled down."
"It is the result of my illness," said Jack. "I am really quite
strong."
He paused, standing on the hearthrug, then suddenly he held out his
hand.
"Good-night," he said.
"Good-night."
Sir John allowed him to go to the door, to touch the handle, before
he spoke.
"Then--" he said, and Jack paused. "Then we are no farther on?"
"In what way?"
"In respect to the matter over which we unfortunately disagreed
before you went away?"
Jack turned, with his hand on the door.
"I have not changed my mind in any respect," he said gently.
"Perhaps you are inclined to take my altered circumstances into
consideration--to modify your views."
"I am getting rather old for modification," answered Sir John
suavely.
"And you see no reason for altering your decision?"
"None."
"Then I am afraid we are no farther on." He paused. "Good-night,"
he added gently, as he opened the door.
"Good-night.
Pages:
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346