“That will suit me quite well.”
He flourished his stick and strode away. Turning, I ran into Hawes. I thought he looked distinctly ill this morning. I had meant to upbraid him mildly for various matters in his province which had been muddled or shelved, but seeing his white strained face, I felt that the man was ill.
I said as much, and he denied it, but not very vehemently. Finally he confessed that he was not feeling too fit, and appeared ready to accept my advice of going home to bed.
I had a hurried lunch and went out to do some visits. Griselda had gone to London by the cheap Thursday train.
I came in about a quarter to four with the intention of sketching the outline of my Sunday sermon, but Mary told me that Mr. Redding was waiting for me in the study.
I found him pacing up and down with a worried face. He looked white and haggard.
He turned abruptly at my entrance.
“Look here, sir. I’ve been thinking over what you said yesterday. I’ve had a sleepless night thinking about it. You’re right. I’ve got to cut and run.”
“My dear boy,” I said.
“You were right in what you said about Anne. I’ll only bring trouble on her by staying here. She’s—she’s too good for anything else. I see I’ve got to go. I’ve made things hard enough for her as it is, heaven help me.”