Pretty soon Sir Robert came out from the dining-room, and made straight
for the stairs. He was walking slowly and rather uncertainly. It seemed
to me that he was a good deal bent. When he reached the hall, I observed
that the spots of color had left his cheeks. His face, indeed, was pasty
white.
I stepped inside and tried to make him face me. But he cut me again,
magnificently. He reached for the railing, and slowly mounted the
stairs.
Deliberately I followed. So we went up to the second floor--he fumbling
along just ahead of me, I holding back.
I stood behind him while he unlocked his door. But weak as he was
physically, he never once let down in his attitude of ignoring my
existence. I am not so certain that he is a coward. I _am_ certain only
that the human creature is extremely complex, extremely difficult to
classify and formulate.
He went in, and made an effort to shut the door in my face. But I caught
it on my elbow, and followed him in, closing it behind me.
He sank into a chair, and looked up at me. Now, at last he had to speak.
“Well--” he asked, “what is it? Why do you come in here?”