This was one of the impulses which kept his nature pliant
even in the midst of these days of crisis.
CHAPTER XII
Whilst Tallente was trying to make up for the years of pleasant
good-fellowship which his overstudious life had cost him and to recover
touch with the friends of his earlier days, Stephen Dartrey, filled with
a queer sense of impending disaster, was climbing the steps to Nora's
flat. On the last landing he lingered for a moment and clenched his
fingers.
"I am a coward," he reflected sadly. "I have asked for this and it has
come."
He stood for a moment perfectly still, with half-closed eyes, seeking
for self-control very much in the fashion of a man who says a prayer to
himself. Then he climbed the last few stairs, rang the bell and held
out both his hands to Nora, who answered it herself.
"Commend my punctuality," he began.
"Why call attention to the one and only masculine virtue?" she replied.
"Let me take your coat."
He straightened his tie in front of the looking-glass and turned to look
at her with something like wonder in his eyes.
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