Пробний камінь
IV
Hedinedalone,hurriedly,atasmallrestaurantnearby,andreturnedatoncetohisbooks.
Latethatnight,asheundressed,hewonderedwhatcontemptibleimpulsehadforcedfromhimhislastwordstoAlexaTrent.Itwasbadenoughtointerferewiththegirl’schancesbyhangingabouthertotheobviousexclusionofothermen,butitwasworsetoseemtojustifyhisweaknessbydressingupthefutureindelusiveambiguities.Hesawhimselfsinkingfromdepthtodepthofsentimentalcowardiceinhisreluctancetorenouncehisholdonher;anditfilledhimwithself-disgusttothinkthatthehighestfeelingofwhichhesupposedhimselfcapablewasblentwithsuchbaseelements.
Hisawakeningwashardlycheeredbythesightofherwriting.Hetorehernoteopenandtookinthefewlines—sheseldomexceededthefirstpage—withthelucidityofapprehensionthatistheforerunnerofevil.
“MyauntsailsonSaturdayandImustgivehermyanswerthedayafterto-morrow.Pleasedon’tcometillthen—Iwanttothinkthequestionoverbymyself.IknowIoughttogo.Won’tyouhelpmetobereasonable?”
Itwassettled,then.Well,hewouldbereasonable;hewouldn’tstandinherway;hewouldlethergo.Fortwoyearshehadbeenlivingsomeother,luckierman’slife;thetimehadcomewhenhemustdropbackintohisown.Henolongertriedtolookahead,togropehiswaythroughtheendlesslabyrinthofhismaterialdifficulties;asenseofdullresignationclosedinonhimlikeafog.
“Hullo,Glennard!”avoicesaid,asanelectric-car,latethatafternoon,droppedhimatanuptowncorner.
