and his mother made him eat—by smuggling as much of it as possible into his coffee cup, drinking off the overflow of coffee and emptying the guilty mug, later, in the kitchen. Mother, daughter and son left Don to his plans.
Nevertheless, when he went out to waylay Margaret on her road to church, he had formed no design for circumventing the difficulties in his path. He saw no further than the fact that he was to meet her again. It was, perhaps, for the last time, alone; but, at least, it was this once; and he took what joy he could from that concession of circumstance.
V
He had been pacing up and down in the cold, for fifteen minutes, kicking his toes into his heels to keep his feet warm, idling at corners, and turning a dozen times in a block to see whether she was coming behind him—trembling with hope at one thought, shivering with cold and the prospect of disappointment at the next—when he saw her between the avenue trees, walking toward him slowly, graceful against the shining background of the snow, her head down with the appearance of knowing that she was doing wrong. And the flush of pleasure with which he had sighted her, faded out in uneasiness as her manner became more reluctant and unjoyful with her approach.
