"A coward, and you
go quietly down to Surrey and confront your father with that story to
tell to him! You do not even write! You stand up and tell it to him face
to face! Harry, I reckon myself as good as another when it comes to
bravery, but for the life of me I could not have done that."
"It was not--pleasant," said Feversham, simply; and this was the only
description of the interview between father and son which was vouchsafed
to any one. But Lieutenant Sutch knew the father and knew the son. He
could guess at all which that one adjective implied. Harry Feversham
told the results of his journey into Surrey.
"My father continues my allowance. I shall need it, every penny of
it--otherwise I should have taken nothing. But I am not to go home
again. I did not mean to go home for a long while in any case, if at
all."
He drew his pocket-book from his breast, and took from it the four white
feathers. These he laid before him on the table.
"You have kept them?" exclaimed Sutch.
"Indeed, I treasure them," said Harry, quietly. "That seems strange to
you. To you they are the symbols of my disgrace. To me they are much
more. They are my opportunities of retrieving it.
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