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Then
he sat down before the window that overlooked the little garden in the
rear of the house, looking out with eyes that saw nothing.


Chapter Eleven

The following days as they began to pass were miserable. Vandover had
never known until now how much he loved his father, how large a place he
had filled in his life. He felt horribly alone now, and a veritable
feminine weakness overcame him, a crying need to be loved as his father
had loved him, and also to love some one as he himself had loved his
father. Worst of all, however, was his loneliness. He could think of no
one who cared in the least for him; the very thought of Turner Ravis or
young Haight wrought in him an expression of scorn. He was sure that he
was nothing to them, though they were the ones whom he considered his
best friends.
Another cause of misery was the fact that his father's death in leaving
him alone had also thrown him upon his own resources. Now he would have
to shoulder responsibilities which hitherto his father had assumed, and
decide questions which until now his father had answered.


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