And all the time at heart--he did believe.
The moonlight cast a greyish tinge over his figure, hunched against the
staircase wall.
Bosinney was in love with her! He hated the fellow, and would not spare
him now. He could and would refuse to pay a penny piece over
twelve thousand and fifty pounds--the extreme limit fixed in the
correspondence; or rather he would pay, he would pay and sue him for
damages. He would go to Jobling and Boulter and put the matter in their
hands. He would ruin the impecunious beggar! And suddenly--though what
connection between the thoughts?--he reflected that Irene had no money
either. They were both beggars. This gave him a strange satisfaction.
The silence was broken by a faint creaking through the wall. She was
going to bed at last. Ah! Joy and pleasant dreams! If she threw the door
open wide he would not go in now!
But his lips, that were twisted in a bitter smile, twitched; he covered
his eyes with his hands....
It was late the following afternoon when Soames stood in the dining-room
window gazing gloomily into the Square.
The sunlight still showered on the plane-trees, and in the breeze their
gay broad leaves shone and swung in rhyme to a barrel organ at the
corner.
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