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I am unable to determine if Father Greer deliberately devised this felicitous amalgamation of the two words that were in his mind, or if it was unintentional, and an indication that Barty's brief flare of revolt had flustered him a little. I am inclined to the latter theory. In any case, the word is a useful one. Christian was in the kennels, in their innermost depths.
Larry sat down by a table, and put his head on his arms and tried to think. His brain was whirling. He had covered his eyes, because he knew if he saw Barty's tragic face again he would laugh, and if he began to laugh, he said to himself, God only knew when he would stop. It was a fatal trick of his nerves, he could never make Barty understand. He would be shocked and scandalised for ever.
However, as he was always diplomatic, he did not give utterance to his idea, but taking a seat next to Barty's, he talked glibly to him until the orchestra finished with a few final bangs, and the curtain drew up on Act III.
He tried to concentrate on the death of Barty's father, but here, strangely enough, Barty seemed equally unable to respond without restraint. "I've got to go on to Mount Music. They say the flood's down, and you can get there now," he said, presently, in the voice from which all the colour and life had died, "I've arranged for a hearse. I had a wire, early, telling me what what had happened.
Didn't I try and make poor Zoé go before him, and th' eye he cast at her! I thought he'd beat me, too!" "Oh, and is a boy all he is then?" said Mrs. Mangan, with relief in her voice: "you'd think by the work your father had 'twas the Lord Leftenant was in it! Run away now, Tishy, like a good girl, and get those clothes off you, and help Hannah with Barty's room.
Before the hearth stood John Barty's favorite arm-chair and into this, after some little demur, Barnabas sank, and stretched out his booted legs to the fire. "Why, father," said he, lolling back luxuriously, "I thought you never liked cushions?" "No more I do, Barnabas. She put them there for you." "She, father?" "One o' the maids, lad, one o' the maids and and there y'are!"
Larry's store of enthusiasm was quite equal to supplying motive power for running two engines; hunting still held its own, and after a club debate in which he had taken an energetic part, even the most exclusive of the Sons of Emmet admitted that Barty's importation was worthy of the privilege that had been extended to him.
His sense of beauty, now beginning to acquire consciousness, and sorely afflicted by the decorative scheme that had been adopted in Barty's bedroom, found solace in the faces of these two women.
The two young men, mentally and physically demoralised by fatigue, had at length, at an hour considerably past midnight, escaped from their colleagues, and, having gained the sanctuary of Barty's office, were drearily reviewing the position by the light of a smoky lamp and over the ashes of a dead fire; counting possible votes, making unconvincing calculations based on supposition, wading hand-in-hand ever deeper into the Slough of Despond.
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