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For some minutes after Claire had left him Bill remained where hewas, motionless. He felt physically incapable of moving. All thestrength that was in him he was using to throw off the insidiouspoison of her parting speech, and it became plainer to him witheach succeeding moment that he would have need of strength.
It is part of the general irony of things that in life's crises aman's good qualities are often the ones that help him least, ifindeed they do not actually turn treacherously and fight againsthim. It was so with Bill. Modesty, if one may trust to the verdictof the mass of mankind, is a good quality. It sweetens the souland makes for a kindly understanding of one's fellows. Butarrogance would have served Bill better now. It was his fatalhabit of self-depreciation that was making Claire's words sospecious as he stood there trying to cast them from his mind. Whowas he, after all, that he should imagine that he had won on hispersonal merits a girl like Elizabeth Boyd?
He had the not very common type of mind that perceives the meritin others more readily than their faults, and in himself thefaults more readily than the merit. Time and the society of agreat number of men of different ranks and natures had rid him ofthe outer symbol of this type of mind, which is shyness, but ithad left him still unconvinced that he amounted to anything verymuch as an individual.
This was the thought that met him every time he tried to persuadehimself that what Claire had said was ridiculous, the mere partingshaft of an angry woman. With this thought as an ally her wordstook on a plausibility hard to withstand. Plausible! That was thedevil of it. By no effort could he blind himself to the fact thatthey were that. In the light of Claire's insinuations what hadseemed coincidences took on a more sinister character. It hadseemed to him an odd and lucky chance that Nutty Boyd should havecome to the rooms which he was occupying that night, seeking acompanion. Had it been chance? Even at the time he had thought itstrange that, on the strength of a single evening spent together,Nutty should have invited a total stranger to make an indefinitevisit to his home. Had there been design behind the invitation?
Bill began to walk slowly to the house. He felt tired and unhappy.He meant to go to bed and try to sleep away these wretched doubtsand questionings. Daylight would bring relief.
As he reached the open front door he caught the sound of voices,and paused for an instant, almost unconsciously, to place them.They came from one of the rooms upstairs. It was Nutty speakingnow, and it was impossible for Bill not to hear what he said, forNutty had abandoned his customary drawl in favour of a high,excited tone.
'Of course, you hate him and all that,' said Nutty; 'but after allyou will be getting five million dollars that ought to have cometo--'
That was all that Bill heard, for he had stumbled across the halland was in his room, sitting on the bed and staring into thedarkness with burning eyes. The door banged behind him.
So it was true!
There came a knock at the door. It was repeated. The handleturned.
'Is that you, Bill?'
It was Elizabeth's voice. He could just see her, framed in thedoorway.
'Bill!'
His throat was dry. He swallowed, and found that he could speak.
'Yes?'
'Did you just come in?'
'Yes.'
'Then--you heard?'
'Yes.'
There was a long silence. Then the door closed gently and he heardher go upstairs.
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