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Verrian accounted for her activity upon the theory of her quite justifiable wish not to arrive at Seasands with a young man whom she might then have the effect of having voluntarily come all the way with; and after one or two circuits of the station it was apparent to him that he was not to have been sent for from Mrs.
It was days before Verrian could confess himself of the fact to his mother, who listened with the justice instinctive in her. She still had not spoken when he ended, and he said, "I have thought it all over, and I feel that he did right. He did the only thing that a man in love with her could do. And I don't wonder he's in love with her.
"No, this train stops at Southfield," the conductor answered, absently biting several holes into her drawing-room ticket. "Can she be one of us?" Miss Macroyd demanded, in a dramatic whisper. "She might be anything," Verrian returned, trying instantly, with a whir of his inventive machinery, to phrase her.
She went on up-stairs, with the sound of her laugh following her, and Verrian went gloomily back to the billiard-room, where he found most of the smokers conspicuously yawning. He lighted a fresh cigar, and while he smoked they dropped away one by one till only Bushwick was left. "Some of the fellows are going Thursday," he said. "Are you going to stick it out to the bitter end?"
"What would she think of me?" "I don't know. She might have expected something of the kind." "How expect something of the kind? Am I one of the self-advertisers?" "Well, she must have realized that she was doing rather a bold thing." "Bold?" "Venturesome," Mrs. Verrian compromised to the kindling anger in her son's eyes. "I don't understand you, mother.
You mustn't share such a secret with any one but your husband. When you tell him it will cease to be my secret." "Yes, yes." "Well, then, you must tell him, unless " "Yes," she prompted. Then they were both silent, looking intensely into each other's eyes. In that moment all else of life seemed to melt and swim away from Verrian and leave him stranded upon an awful eminence confronting her.
She stopped long enough for Verrian to revise his resolution of going away with the fellows who were leaving the middle of the week, and to decide on staying to the end. "I am going to call it Seeing Ghosts." "That's good," Verrian said, provisionally. "Yes, I might say I was surprised at my thinking it up." "That would be one form of modesty."
She fluttered a little more closely up to him, and twittered out, "Miss Shirley wants me to let you know that she has told me about your coming together, and everything." "Oh, I'm very glad," Verrian said, not sure that it was the right thing. "I don't know why she feels so, but she has a right to do as she pleases about it. She's not a guest." "No," Verrian assented.
"No, thank you, I believe not. But perhaps you are doing this? One can't suppose Mrs. Westangle imagined it." "No, I can't plead guilty. But why isn't it predicable of Mrs. Westangle?" "You mustn't ask too much of me, Mr. Verrian. Somehow, I won't say how, it's been imagined for her. She's heard of its being done somewhere. It can't be supposed she's read of it, anywhere." "No, I dare say not."
Westangle's library doesn't seem to be very rich in narrative." He had not his mind on the search perhaps, and perhaps she knew it. She presently said, "I wish I dared ask you a favor I mean your advice, Mr. Verrian." He lifted himself from his stooping posture and looked at her, smiling. "Would that take much courage?"
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