The old man didn't cry. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and once he brought out a dirty handkerchief. The thing that he couldn't understand was why this had happened to the boy at all. Also he was persecuted by the thought that there was something still that he could do. He didn't know what it might be, but there must be something. He had no vindictiveness. He didn't want revenge. He didn't blame the Germans. He didn't blame anybody. He only felt that he should "make it up to his boy" somehow. "You know, Dahlia," he said, "there were times when one was irritated by the boy. I haven't a very equable temper. No, I never have had. I used to have my headaches, and he was noisy sometimes. And I'm afraid I spoke sharply. I'm sorry enough for it now--indeed, I am. Oh, yes! But, of course, one didn't know at the time...."
Then he went back to the horrors. They would not leave him, they buzzed about his brain like flies. The darkness, the smell ... the smell, the filth, the darkness. And then the end! He could not forget that. What the boy must have suffered to come to that! Such a happy boy!... Why had it happened? And what was to be done now?
He stopped at last and said that he must go and catch his train. He was glad to have talked about it. It had done him good. It was kindly of Dahlia to listen to him. He hoped that Dahlia would come down one day and see him at Little Roseberry. It wasn't much that he could offer her. It was a quiet little place, and he was alone, but he would be glad to see her. He kissed her, gave her a dim bewildered smile, and went.
Soon after his departure Mrs. Mellish arrived. It is significant of Mrs. Mellish's general egotism and ignorance that she perceived nothing odd in Miss Morganhurst! Just the same as she always was. They talked bridge the next afternoon. Bridge. Four women. What about Norah Pope? Poor player. That's the worst of it. Doesn't see properly and won't wear glasses. Simply conceit. But still, who else is there? To-morrow afternoon. Very difficult. Mrs. Mellish admits that on that particular day she was preoccupied about a dress that she couldn't get back from the dressmakers. These days. What has come to the working-classes? They don't care. +They don't care.+ Money simply of no importance to them. That's the strange thing. In the old days you could have done simply everything by offering them a little more.... But not now. Oh, dear no!... She admits that she was preoccupied about the dress, and wasn't noticing Dahlia Morganhurst as she might have done. She saw nothing odd. It's my belief that she'll see nothing odd at the last trump. She went away.