But Phipps himself kept getting in the way:
Phipps the slacker, as he had known him in the army; Phipps the
condescending lord of creation, who had refused to take his hand at Mr.
Ranny's; and oftenest of all Phipps the philanderer, who had insulted
Rose Mattel, and been responsible for the dismissal of more than one
nurse from the hospital. The mere thought of such a man in connection
with Eleanor Bartlett made Quin's strong fingers clench around an
imaginary neck and brought beads of perspiration to his forehead.
"Something's got to be done!" he thought wildly, staggering to his feet.
"I got to stop it; I got----"
Then the sense of his helplessness swept over him, and he sat down again
on the steps. She had evidently left on the eight-o'clock train for
Chicago, and it was now eight-thirty. There was nothing to be done. What
a fool he had been to go on hoping and daring! She had told him again and
again that she didn't care for him; but she had also told him that she
did not intend to many anybody. But if she hadn't cared for him, why had
she come to him with her troubles, and followed his advice, and wanted
his good opinion? Why had she looked at him the way she had the day of
Miss Enid's wedding, and said she remembered her dances with him better
than those with anybody else? In bitterness of spirit he went over all
the treasured words and glances he had hoarded since the day he met her.
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