"If you delay one moment; if you blow out, or even puncture, I will never employ you again," he remarked to the chauffeur.
"It's all luck," the driver answered, indignantly.
"I prefer lucky men," Denis replied. "Now drive like the very deuce."
Nursing his outraged dignity, the chauffeur sent the car at its topmost speed on the long road to Grey Town. This was his lucky trip; stray nails there were in plenty, also dangerous places, but the Fiat raced through in six hours. Denis sat rigidly perusing and correcting the article, determined not to think of grey sorrow at the other end. Once he groaned to himself.
"The last good thing in life, and I am to close it. But, there is work--and the Church, thank God!"
Then he made a further correction, folded the article, and placed it in an envelope. This he confided to the chauffeur.
"I like you," he remarked; "you can be as reckless as I when it is necessary. I shall want a driver soon. Would you take the post?"
"I prefer to be where I am," the man answered. "A driver can't be lucky always."
"He only needs to be lucky on occasions like this, when a mother is waiting to say 'Good-bye' to a son."
In six hours' time the car raced up the avenue at "Layton," to find Samuel Quirk pacing the verandah while he awaited his son. Denis could see the hand of bitter grief in the old man's bent figure, in the deep lines on his face, and in the sunken eyes. After nearly fifty years' companionship the prospect of losing his faithful wife struck Samuel Quirk a titanic blow.
Denis had never been outwardly demonstrative towards his father. Samuel Quirk had not invited any sign of affection, and his son had not offered it. But they loved and respected one another, for Samuel Quirk was the type of man that Denis could best admire. He recognised honesty and purity of intention in the old man; he knew that Samuel Quirk would never intentionally injure another. These virtues appealed to him like rich jewels hidden within a rough casket. To-day his heart went right out to the pathetic figure of hopeless misery portrayed by his father.
He sprang from the car and took his father's hand tenderly.
"Did I say it was not?" asked Samuel Quirk. "I knew it must come soon--but that doesn't make it one bit easier!"