I've a long and difficult day before me. You just hop into the gig,
and Tom'll drive you round--to see Mrs. Norton or anybody else. Only
let me hear by dinner-time that the arrangement is made."
"You shall," said Mavis cheerfully.
"Thank you, Mav. You're always a trump. You never fail one."
What had seemed an insuperable difficulty was thus in a moment
accomplished. His quietly authoritative tone had made Mavis accept the
thing not only easily but without a doubt or question, and he thought
remorsefully that, except for his sneaking, cowardly delay, all this
might have occurred a month ago. He felt a distinct lightening of the
trouble as he went back into his own room, and then the weight of it
fell upon him again. He had succeeded so far as Mavis was concerned;
but how about Norah?
He stood meditating in front of the looking-glass before he began to
shave. When he picked up the shaving-brush, he noticed that his hand
was trembling--not much, yet quite visibly. It never used to do that,
and he looked at it with disgust. It seemed to him like an old man's
hand.
Then he began to study his face in the glass. No one would have
guessed that this was a man who had been praying all night. The whole
face showed those signs of fatigue that come after base pleasures,
after riotous waste of energy, after long hours of debauch.
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