René in his joy began to sing to himself. It was the song Cathleen had sung in the woods. He could see her again as she was there in the green haze of the woods, in the dappled light, mysterious and wild.
From that he deliberately turned away to fix his gaze on the humorous reality, because there was nothing that he did not desire to sweep into his joy. He lit a match and gazed round the little, cheaply furnished room, the ugly toilet service, the yellow dressing-table, the silly patterned wall-paper of pallid roses, the execrable pictures on the wall. His eyes were dazzled by the light, and they ached. Came darkness again, and he hummed to himself as he thought of the morrow and the train, with its wheels humming along the rails, taking him nearer the goal of his desire.
In the morning George shook him warmly by the hand when he came down, again as he was putting on his coat, and again, twice, as he set out for business.
"Good luck," he said. "Good luck, old man. Elsie really has loved having you, and I'm sorry you're leaving dear, old, dirty Thrigsby."
"Good-by," said René. "I'll let you know what happens to me, if anything does. I don't think I shall stay in London."
"Good-by, then. By George, I shall be late!" And he set off at a run.
René only had ten minutes more. Most of that was taken up with seeing the children off to the kindergarten they attended. Mrs. Fourmy had stayed in her bed. He went up to see her. She clung to him, but spoke no word, and he was too deeply moved to speak. She looked old and frail and very small in her bed. At last she said:
Her eyes looked hunger and reproach. She turned her face away.
"Good-by, mother. George is a good fellow, isn't he?"
"Oh, yes. And I find the children a great comfort." She said that in a perfectly toneless voice. The contrast between it and what she had looked only a moment before shocked René. He mastered himself and kissed her and hurried away.
"It has been a treat. You really are a sight for sore eyes, René. I never thought you would grow into such a handsome man. I do wish George didn't have to go to that office. It makes him so pasty."
"Let me know when you have a birthday," said René, "and you shall have another tailor-made."