"Well, there's no particular reason why I shouldn't go--_now_," I said.
"What do you say, Kitty? Hark! What's that?"
"That's the result, I expect," said my brother-in-law.
We drew up the blind and opened the window. The moon was shining
brightly, and threw the monstrous shadow of the Cathedral very blackly
upon the untrodden snow of the peaceful Close. Through the clear night
air came the sound of frenzied cheering.
"That's it, right enough," said Gerald. "I wonder if you've got the
chuck, my bonny boy."
"Ugh! It is cold! Come in," said Kitty.
We shut the window, drew down the blind, returned to the fire, and
waited. Dolly joined us now, and Kitty vanished to sit by Phillis. We
waited on. Somehow it never occurred to us to send downstairs for news.
I suppose there are times when the human craving for sensation is sated.
We sat and waited.
At last the door opened, and, as I expected, Robin entered. He looked
like a man who has not been to bed for a week. He shut the door softly
behind him--evidently he feared he might be entering a house of
mourning--and surveyed us for a moment without speaking. I knew what was
in his mind. Then he said--
"We have lost."