“ Mr. Rymer thinks that things were permitted then that are not permitted now.”
Laurie drank up his cup of tea. It is a humiliating fact that extreme grief often renders the mourner rather cross. There was a distinct air of crossness about Laurie at this moment. His nerves were very near the top.
“Well, that’s very convenient,” he said. “Maggie, do you know if there’s any book on Spiritualism in the house?”
The girl glanced uneasily near the fireplace.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Yes; I think there’s something up there. I believe I saw it the other day.”
Laurie rose and stood opposite the shelves.
“What color is it? (No, no more tea, thanks.)”
“Er … black and red, I think,” said the girl. “I forget.”
She looked up at him, faintly uneasy, as he very deliberately drew down a book from the shelf and turned the pages.
“Yes … this is it,” he said. “Thanks very much. … No, really no more tea, thanks, mother.”
Then he went to the door, with his easy, rather long steps, and disappeared. They heard his steps in the inner hall. Then a door closed overhead.
Mrs. Baxter contentedly poured herself out another cup of tea.
“Poor boy,” she said. “He’s thinking of that girl still. I’m glad he’s got something to occupy his mind.”