You oughtn't to come to the
house--to see her--after what you've done to the detestable Bob. No,
I'll go alone and I'll go now. You shall come as far as the top of the
road and there wait."
"And then?" George asked.
This was to research the map for rest-houses and for fortunes that
might be won after the ogre castle had been passed.
Mary conned and peered until the strain squeezed a little moisture in
her eyes. "I don't know," she said faintly.
Her bold George had to know. "It won't be for very long, dear old
girl. You must find another situation. Till then a lodging. I know a
place where a man I know used to have digs. A jolly old landlady. I'll
raise some money--I'll borrow it."
Mary tried to brighten. "Yes, and I'll go to that agency again. I
must, because I shall have no character, you see. I'll tell her
everything quite truthfully, and I think she'll be nice."
"It's no good waiting," George said. His voice had the sound of a
funeral bell.
Mary arose slowly, white. She said: "Come along."
With a tumbril rumble in their ears, the children dancing ahead, they
started for Palace Gardens.
IV.
The groans and curses of her adored Bob, his bulgy mouth and shutting
eyes, his tender nose and the encrimsoned water where he had layed his
wounds--these had so acted upon Mrs.
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