mantelshelf and a foot on the brass curb. Her eyes turned suddenly upon Cherry.
"What do you mean? I have been out of town. I only came back this morning."
"Kit cut himself operating on some wretched case. It is his arm,—blood poisoning. They still have hopes if his arm could be amputated, but Kit won't have it"
She got up and walked quickly to the bay window.
"The father has been here. Oh,—if you had seen his poor face! He has been trying to find you."
Still that white silence upon the face of Molly Pentreath.
"All frozen, and a kind of burning fire behind it. O, my dear, isn't life cruel! After all these years of devotion. I don't believe a man ever loved his son as Sorrell. And then—just when success had come, and pride in it"
Molly's lips moved.
"He wants me,—to see me!"
"Yes,"
Her whole body seemed to become swift and purposeful. She refastened her coat as she went towards the door.
"Where is he?"
"At St. Martha's. His father was here an hour ago. He has gone to your flat. Tom went to the 'club.' Wait,—there's the bell."
Molly had opened the door. She stood there waiting, listening to two voices. She turned her head and spoke to Cherry.
"It is—the father. He is coming up. Do you mind?"
Cherry slipped past her and up the stairs, and Molly went back to the fireplace. She was drawing on a pair of fur-lined gloves when Kit's father came into the room.
It was she who spoke first.
"Have you a taxi?"
He nodded, and sat down suddenly in a chair near the door. He looked ghastly, and his distress was a wind that went to the core of her. She saw his head go down into his hands; he was faint.
She went quickly towards him, and standing by the chair, let her hand rest on his shoulder.
