George need never have known it, for Eugene's purchases of stock were
always quiet ones: the transaction remained, so far, between him and
Akers, and could be kept between them.
The possibility just edged itself into Eugene's mind; that is, he let
it become part of his perceptions long enough for it to prove to him
that it was actually a possibility. Then he half started with disgust
that he should be even idly considering such a thing over his last
cigar for the night, in his library. "No!" And he threw the cigar
into the empty fireplace and went to bed.
His bitterness for himself might have worn away, but never his
bitterness for Isabel. He took that thought to bed with him--and it
was true that nothing George could do would ever change this
bitterness of Eugene. Only George's mother could have changed it.
And as Eugene fell asleep that night, thinking thus bitterly of
Georgie, Georgie in the hospital was thinking of Eugene. He had come
"out of ether" with no great nausea, and had fallen into a reverie,
though now and then a white sailboat staggered foolishly into the
small ward where he lay.
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