But when Georgia returned from her visit to Ernestine the month before,
she came to him with:
"Dr. Parkman, you _must_ do something for Ernestine!" And after she had
told him many things, and he questioned still further, she said, in
desperate desire to make it plain--"She is becoming a great deal like
you!"
And from then until the time of starting on this trip he had had no
peace.
He understood; understood far more deeply than she who would have him
see. Was any one better qualified to understand that thing than he?
Well,--what then? What now? Was there any other thing to expect? Was he,
of all men, going to her with platitudes about courage and faith? And
even so, would sophistry avail anything? Did he not know Ernestine far
too well far that?
His own face bore the deep marks of hard and bitter things. But the loss
and the sorrow showed themselves in strange ways, little understood as
manifestations of grief. He ran his automobile faster, showed even less
caution than before in his business ventures, had less and less to say,
was called more and more strange by those associated with him.
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