Then, with
a short pressure of Fraide's hand, he turned, evading the many
groups that waited to claim him, and passed out of the House
alone.
Hailing a cab, he drove to Grosvenor Square. All the
exaltation of an hour ago had turned to ashes. His excitement
had found its culmination in a sense of futility and
premonition.
He met no one in the hall or on the stairs of Chilcote's
house, and on entering the study he found that also deserted.
Greening had been among the most absorbed of those who had
listened to his speech. Passing at once into the room, he
crossed as if by instinct to the desk, and there halted. On
the top of some unopened letters lay the significant yellow
envelope of a telegram--the telegram that in an unformed,
subconscious way had sprung to his expectation on the moment
of Fraide's congratulation.
Very quietly he picked it up, opened and read it, and, with
the automatic caution that had become habitual, carried it
across the room and dropped it in the fire. This done, he
returned to the desk, read the letters that awaited Chilcote,
and, scribbling the necessary notes upon the margins, left
them in readiness for Greening.
Pages:
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270