Craig shook his head. He couldn't confess to Arkwright what was
really agitating him, why he did not disregard Margaret's
injunction.

"What're you afraid of?"

Josh scowled as Grant thus unconsciously scuffed the sore spot.
"I'm not afraid!" he cried aggressively. "It's better that you
should go. Don't haggle--go!"

As Grant could think of no reason why he shouldn't, and as he had
the keenest curiosity to see how the "old tartar" was taking it,
he went. Margaret's voice came in response to his knock. "Oh, it's
you," said she in a tone of relief.

Her face was swollen and her eyes red. She looked anything but
lovely. Grant, however, was instantly so moved that he did not
notice her homeliness. Also, he was one of those unobservant
people who, having once formed an impression of a person, do not
revise it except under compulsion; his last observation of
Margaret had resulted in an impression of good looks, exceptional
charm. He bent upon her a look in which understanding sympathy was
heavily alloyed with the longing of the covetous man in presence
of his neighbor's desirable possessions. But he discreetly decided
that he would not put into words--at least, not just yet--his
sympathy with her for her dreadful, her tragic mistake. No, it
would be more tactful as well as more discreet to pretend belief
that her tears had been caused by her grandmother. He glanced
round.