"Good night--you mustn't stay any longer. I'll be all right." She
whispered a few quick words of French, begging him to go, and Bob,
though unwillingly, gave in.
"All right," he said. "Go to bed, little 'un. I'll do as I promised
about writing." He saluted Mrs. Rainham stiffly. "You'll remember,
Mrs. Rainham, that she stayed out solely at my wish--I take full
responsibility, and I'll be ready to tell my father so." The door closed
behind Cecilia, and he strode away down the street, biting his lip. He
felt abominably as though he had deserted the little sister--and yet,
what else could he do? One could not remain for ever, brawling on a
doorstep at midnight--and Tommy had begged him to go. Still--
"Hang it!" he said viciously. "If she were only a decent Hun to fight!"
In the grim house in Lancaster Gate Cecilia was facing the music alone.
She listened unmoved, as she had listened many times before, to
the catalogue of her sins and misdeeds--only she had never seen her
stepmother quite so angry. Finally, a door above opened, and Mark
Rainham looked out, his dull, colourless face weakly irritable.
"I wish you'd stop that noise, and let the girl go to bed," he said.
"Come here, Cecilia."
She went to him hesitating, and he looked at her with a spark of
compassion. Then he kissed her.
"Good night," he said, as though he had called her to him simply to say
it, and not to separate her from the furious woman who stood looking
at them.
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