He brought out the
words now with tremendous effort, and having spoken he ceased to kick at
the fire and became absolutely still.
The squire sat at the table, staring at him. For some seconds the silence
continued, then irritably he broke it.
"Well? Go on, man! That isn't the whole of the story. What do you mean
by--responsible? He didn't shove him over the cliff, I suppose?"
"No," Dick said. "He didn't do that. I almost wish he had. It would have
been somehow--more endurable."
Again he became silent, and suddenly to the squire sitting frowning at
the table there came a flash of intuition that told him he could not
continue. He got up sharply, went to Dick, still frowning, and laid an
impulsive arm across his shoulders.
"I'm sorry, my lad," he said.
Dick made a slight movement as if the caress were not wholly welcome,
but after a moment he reached up and grasped the squire's hand.
"It hit me pretty hard," he said in a low voice, not lifting his hand.
"Juliet just made it bearable. I shall get over it, of course. But--I
never want to see Jack again."
Again for a space he stopped, then with a sudden fierce impatience
jerked on.
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