His college oar,
too, hung here, and there were pleasant groups and pictures scattered
on the other walls.
Maggie did not often come in here, except by invitation, but about
seven o'clock on this evening, half an hour before she had to go and
dress, she thought she would look in on him for a few minutes. She was
still a little uncomfortable; she did not quite know why: it was too
ridiculous, she told, herself, that a sensible boy like Laurie could
be seriously affected by what she considered the wicked nonsense of
Spiritualism.
Yet she went, telling herself that Laurie's grief was an excuse for
showing him a little marked friendliness. Besides, she would like to
ask him whether he was really going back to town on Thursday.
She tapped twice before an answer came; and then it seemed a rather
breathless voice which spoke.
The boy was sitting bolt upright on the edge of the sofa, with a
couple of candles at his side, and the book in his hands. There was a
strained and intensely interested look in his eyes.
"May I come in for a few minutes? It's nearly dressing time," she
said.
"Oh--er--certainly."
He got up, rather stiffly, still keeping his place in the book with
one finger, while she sat down.
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