"You've hardly looked at
it yet."
Maggie knew this mood of his only too well. He reserved it for
occasions when he was determined to fight. Argument was a useless
weapon against it.
"My dear boy," she said with an effort, "I'm sorry. I daresay it is
unreasonable. But that kind of thing does seem to me so disgusting.
That's all.... I didn't come to talk about that.... Tell me--"
"Didn't you?" said Laurie.
Maggie was silent.
"Didn't you?"
"Well--yes I did. But I don't want to any more."
Laurie smiled so that it might be seen.
"Well, what else did you want to say?" He glanced purposely at the
book. Maggie ignored his glance.
"I just came to see how you were getting on."
"How do you mean? With the book?"
"No; in every way."
He looked up at her swiftly and suddenly, and she saw that his agony
of sorrow was acute beneath all his attempts at superiority, his
courteous fractiousness, and his set face. She was filled suddenly
with an enormous pity.
"Oh! Laurie, I'm so sorry," she cried out. "Can't I do anything?"
"Nothing, thanks; nothing at all," he said quietly.
Again pity and misery surged up within her, and she cast all prudence
to the winds.
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