"Then get your hat," said Paul.
"It's much the best thing. Thank you for telling me." Even in a tragic hour there was so much in Tony of the ingenuous that, with his habit of good-nature and his hand on the door, he lingered for the comfort of his friend. "She'll be a resource—a fund of memory. She'll know what I mean—I shall want some one. So we can always talk."
"Oh, you're safe!" Paul went on.
It had now all come to Tony. "I see my way with her."
"So do I!" said Paul.
Tony fairly brightened through his gloom. "I'll keep her on!" And he took his course by the front. Left alone Paul closed the door on him, holding it a minute and lost evidently in reflections of which he was the subject. He exhaled a long sigh that was burdened with many things; then as he moved away his eyes attached themselves as if in sympathy with a vague impulse to the door of the library. He stood a moment irresolute; after which, deeply restless, he went to take up the hat that, on coming in, he had laid on one of the tables. He was in the act of doing this when the door of the library opened
