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Updated: May 5, 2025
And I won't say a word more now, but I'll be back soon, and then we Oh, I'm so sorry I'm going." Verrian gave a laugh. "You couldn't do anything if you stayed, mother. Do go!" "Well " She looked at him, smoothing her muff with her hand a moment, and then she dropped a fond kiss on his cheek and obeyed him. Verrian still sat at his desk, thinking, with his burning face in his hands.
Verrian had agreed with him that no more interesting event could have happened to an author, but she had tried to keep him from taking it too personally, and from making himself mischievous illusions from it.
Her agitation was really painful, but Verrian did not attribute it to her finding herself there alone with him at midnight; for though the other guests had all gone to bed, the house was awake in some of the servants, and an elderly woman came in presently bringing a breadth of silvery gauze, which she held up, asking if it was that. "Not exactly, but it will do nicely, Mrs. Stager.
When they were well up the path, in that part of it where it deflects from the drive without approaching the street too closely, and achieves something of seclusion, she said: "Your speaking of him just now makes me want to tell you something, Mr. Verrian.
But Miss Shirley told him she was ready to take her full share of the blame, and, if anything came of it, she authorized him to put the whole blame on her." Verrian made a pause which his mother took for invitation or permission to ask, "And was he satisfied with that?" "I don't know. I wasn't, and it's only just to Miss Shirley to say that she wasn't, either.
Women are personal in their literary interests." Philip asked, in dismay, "You didn't give it away did you, mother?" "Certainly not, my dear. You have brought me up too carefully." "Of course. I didn't imagine you had." Then, as they could not pretend to look at the pictures any longer, they went away, too. Their issue into the open air seemed fraught with novel emotion for Mrs. Verrian.
Verrian found the suggestion so distasteful, for a reason which he did not quite seize himself, that he answered, resentfully, "It could have been, but I don't think it was." "I will tell her what you say. Oh, may I tell her what you say?" "I don't see why you shouldn't. It isn't very important, either way, is it?" "Oh, don't you think so? Not if it involved pretending what wasn't true?"
Verrian was alone when the postman brought him this envelope, and he could indulge a certain passion for method by which he read its contents in the order named; if his mother had been by, she would have made him read the girl's reply first of all.
Verrian had thought of generalizing, but she seized a single point. "Perhaps not so much courage as you think. You mustn't let such bravado impose upon you, Philip. I've no doubt she knew her ground." "She took the chance of his casting her off." "She knew he wouldn't. She knew him, and she knew you. She knew that if he cast her off " "Mother! Don't say it! I can't bear it!"
The sex-partisanship, which is such a droll fact in women when there is any question of their general opposition to men, possessed them all, and they stood as, one girl for the reality of their triumph. This did not prevent them from declaring that the men had behaved with outrageous unfairness, and that the only one who fought with absolute sincerity from first to last was Mr. Verrian.
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