It
should seek expression as a seed seeks sunlight. I'm talking about
honesty; bravery; a willingness to accept the consequences of one's
acts and come through; about the intention to sacrifice for love
just what has to be sacrificed. What's the use of it otherwise?
That's one real advance the modern mind has made, anyhow, despite
all the rest of the welter and uncertainty."
"Of course, dearest."
He would go on. After a while Cecil would awake guiltily and inject
a fresh, almost gay interest into her sleepy voice. She was not so
unfettered as not to dread the wounded esteem of the unlistened-to
male. She would lean over and kiss Adrian.
"Do go to sleep, darling! What's the sense? Pretty soon your uncle
will be dead--wretched old man! Then you'll never have to think of
him again." Being a childless woman, her red, a trifle cruel mouth
would twist itself in the darkness into a small, secretive, maternal
smile.
But old Mr. Henry McCain didn't die; instead he seemed to be caught
up in the condition of static good health which frequently
companions entire selfishness and a careful interest in oneself. His
butler died, which was very annoying. Mr. McCain seemed to consider
it the breaking of a promise made fifteen or so years before.
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