That removal had left an emptiness so distressing to Mr. and Mrs.
Vertrees that neither of them had crossed the threshold since the dark
day; but the gas-light, though from a single jet, shed no melancholy
upon Bibbs, nor could any room seem bare that knew the glowing
presence of Mary. He spoke lightly, not sadly.
"Yes, it's come. I've shirked and put off, but I can't shirk and put
off any longer. It's really my part to go to him--at least it would
save my face. He means what he says, and the time's come to serve my
sentence. Hard labor for life, I think."
Mary shook her head. "I don't think so. He's too kind."
"You think my father's KIND?" And Bibbs stared at her.
"Yes. I'm sure of it. I've felt that he has a great, brave heart.
It's only that he has to be kind in his own way--because he can't
understand any other way."
"Ah yes," said Bibbs. "If that's what you mean by 'kind'!"
She looked at him gravely, earnest concern in her friendly eyes.
"It's going to be pretty hard for you, isn't it?"
"Oh--self-pity!" he returned, smiling. "This has been just the last
flicker of revolt. Nobody minds work if he likes the kind of work.
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