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It is 9 o'clock. Beauregard, as yet unaware of McDowell's new plan, sends an order to Ewell, on his right, to hold himself ready "to take the offensive, at a moment's notice," and directing that Ewell be supported in his advance, toward Sangster's cross-roads and the rear of Centreville, by Holmes's Brigade.
He was very pale; his eyes looked defiant; there was a hard fold to his lips. "Hallo!" he said laconically; he sat down opposite to Sangster. "I don't want any lunch; you fire away." He seemed to avoid Sangster's eyes; there was a little awkward silence. "How's the wife?" Sangster asked nervously. Jimmy laughed mirthlessly. "She's left me; she says she'll never live with me again." "Left you!"
London looked grey and dismal; even the little fat sparrows who twittered all day long in the boughs of a stunted tree outside the window of Sangster's modest sitting-room had given up trying to be cheerful, and were huddled together under the leaves. Sangster was in his shirt-sleeves and old carpet slippers, writing, when Jimmy entered. He looked up disinterestedly, then rose to his feet.
The chambermaid who waited on Christine was voluble, and a friend of his, and he had heard a great deal from her that was untrue, mixed up with a smattering of truth. He said that he was sure Mrs. Challoner was in; he sent a page-boy up with Sangster's card. It seemed a long time before the reply came. Mrs. Challoner would be pleased to see Mr. Sangster; would he go up to her sitting-room.
The first shock had passed; anger took its place. He would never forgive her; all his life he would never forgive her; she was not worth a thought. She had never been worth loving. She was a heartless, scheming woman; little Christine Wyatt had more affection in the clasp of her hand than Cynthia had in the whole of her beautiful body. The thought of Christine recalled Sangster's words.
Beauregard proposes a plan of battle which is an immediate general advance of the Rebel centre and left, concentrating, from all the fords of Bull Run, upon Centreville, while the Rebel right advances toward Sangster's cross-roads, ready to fall either on Centreville, or upon Fairfax Court House, in its rear, according to circumstances. The plan proposed, is accepted at once by Johnston.
He is waiting to hear of the progress of the attack which he has ordered upon the Union Army, supposed by him to be at Centreville, and especially as to the advance of his right toward Sangster's Station.
He is waiting to hear of the progress of the attack which he has ordered upon the Union Army, supposed by him to be at Centreville, and especially as to the advance of his right toward Sangster's Station.
She doesn't think the old idiot's coming home at all; she doesn't believe anything I tell her now." "Nonsense!" But Sangster's eyes looked anxious. He had seen a great deal during the last four days, and for the first time there was a tiny doubt in his mind. Had Christine really lost her love for Jimmy? He was obliged to admit that it seemed as if she had.
He was walking up Fleet Street when he ran into a man he knew a man whom Jimmy knew also; he stopped and caught him by his buttonhole. "I say, have you heard awful thing, isn't it?" Sangster stared. "Heard! Heard what?" "About Cynthia Farrow. Had a frightful accident in Mortlake's car." Sangster's eyes woke to interest. "Badly hurt?" he asked briefly. "Dead!" "My God!"
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