He bowed again with contemptuous ceremony, and turned away.
The color had dropped out of Helena's face; she was trembling very
much. With a confused impulse she called to him, and even ran after
him for a few steps down the path. He turned and waited for her. She
came up to him, her breath broken with haste and fear.
"Mr. Wright, you won't--" Her face trembled with dismay. In her fright
she put her hand on his arm and shook it; "you won't--?"
As he looked into her stricken eyes, his own suddenly softened. "Why--
"he said, and paused; then struck the ground with his stick sharply.
"There, there; I understand. You think I'll tell? Gad-a-mercy, madam,
I am a gentleman. And my boy Sam doesn't interest you? Yes, yes; I see
that now. Why, perhaps I've been a trifle harsh? I shall say nothing
to Lavendar, or anybody else."
She put her hands over her face, and he heard a broken sound.
Instantly he reddened to his ears.
"Come! Come! You haven't thought me harsh, have you? Why, you poor-
bird! It was only on my boy's account. You and I understand
each other--I am a man of the world. But with Sam, it's different,
now, isn't it? You see that? He's in love with you, the young fool! A
great nuisance to you, of course. And I thought you might--but I ask
your pardon! I see that you wouldn't think of such a thing. My dear
young lady, I make you my apologies." He put his hand out and patted
her shoulder; "Poor bird!" he said. But she shivered away from his
touch, and after a hesitating moment he went shuffling down the path
by himself.
On the way home he sniffled audibly; and when he reached the entrance
to his own place he stopped, tucked his stick under his arm, and blew
his nose with a sonorous sound. As he stuffed his handkerchief back
into his pocket, he saw his grandson lounging against the gate,
evidently waiting for him... The dilapidation of the Wright place was
especially obvious here at the entrance. The white paint on the two
square wooden columns of the gateway had peeled and flaked, and the
columns themselves had rotted at the base into broken fangs, and hung
loosely upon their inner-posts; one of them sagged sidewise from the
weight of the open gate which had long ago settled down into the
burdocks and wild parsley that bordered the weedy driveway. What with
the canaries, and the cooking, and the slovenly housework, poor old
Simmons had no time for such matters as repairing or weeding.