And yet he did not know.He had not himself escaped from it all by leaving it, and then that undermining bewildering suspicion that perhaps after all there was something in all of this, that it was not only charlatanism, confused and disconcerted him.He was like a man who hears sounds and faint cries behind a thick wall, and there are no doors and windows, and the bricks are too stout to be torn apart.
He had been behind that wall all his life...
Amy's allusion to Maggie in the morning had been very slight, but had shown quite clearly that she had heard all, and probably more, than the truth.When he returned that morning he found his mother alone, knitting a pink woollen comforter, her gold spectacles on the end of her nose, her fresh lace cap crisp and dainty on her white hair--the very picture of the dearest old lady in the world.
"Mother," he began at once, "what did Amy mean this morning about myself and Maggie Cardinal?""Maggie who, dear?" his mother asked.
"Maggie Cardinal--the Cardinal niece, you know," he said impatiently.
"Did she say anything? I don't remember.""Yes, mother.You remember perfectly well.She said that they were all talking about me and Maggie.""Did she?" The old lady slowly counted her stitches."Well, dear, Ishouldn't worry about what they all say--whoever 'they' may be.""Oh, I don't care for that," he answered contemptuously, "although all the same I'm not going to have Amy running that girl down.She's been against her from the first.What I want to know is has Amy been to father with this? Because if she has I'm going to stop it.I'm not going to have her bothering father with bits of gossip that she's picked up by listening behind other peoples' key-holes."Amy, meanwhile, had come in and heard this last sentence.