"Of course you can have all I've got," he said. "But you must not
go to-night, Miss Ellen. It's too late. I'll give you my room and
go in with Dan Boyd."
And he prevailed over her protests, in the end. It was not until
he saw her settled there, hiding her sense of strangeness under an
impassive mask, that he went downstairs again and took his hat
from its hook.
Lily must go back home, he knew. It was unthinkable that she should
break with her family, and go to the Doyles. He had too little
self-consciousness to question the propriety of his own interference,
too much love for her to care whether she resented that interference.
And he was filled with a vast anger at Jim Doyle. He saw in all
this, somehow, Doyle's work; how it would play into Doyle's plans to
have Anthony Cardew's granddaughter a member of his household. He
would take her away from there if he had to carry her.
He was a long time in getting to the mill district, and a longer
time still in finding Cardew Way. At an all-night pharmacy he
learned which was the house, and his determined movements took on
a sort of uncertainty. It was very late. Ellen had waited for
him for some time.
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