It
is an order. Obey."
"Dick," said Torpenhow, next morning, "can I do anything for you?"
"No! Leave me alone. How often must I remind you that I'm blind?"
"Nothing I could go for to fetch for to carry for to bring?"
"No. Take those infernal creaking boots of yours away."
"Poor chap!" said Torpenhow to himself. "I must have been sitting on his nerves
lately. He wants a lighter step." Then, aloud, "Very well. Since you're so
independent, I'm going off for four or five days. Say goodbye at least. The
housekeeper will look after you, and Keneu has my rooms."
Dick's face fell. "You won't be longer than a week at the outside? I know I'm
touched in the temper, but I can't get on without you."
"Can't you? You'll have to do without me in a little time, and you'll be glad
I'm gone."
Dick felt his way back to the big chair, and wondered what these things might
mean. He did not wish to be tended by the housekeeper, and yet Torpenhow's
constant tenderness jarred on him. He did not exactly know what he wanted. The
darkness would not lift, and Maisie"s unopened letters felt worn and old from
much handling. He could never read them for himself as long as life endured;
but Maisie might have sent him some fresh ones to play with.
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