He saw how fantastic was the whole structure of his hopes. He wondered
that he had ever conceived it even wildly possible that his father would
consent to architecture as a career! To ask it was to ask absurdly too
much of fate. He demolished, with a violent and resentful impulse, the
structure of his hopes; stamped on it angrily. He was beaten. What
could he do? He could do nothing against his father. He could no more
change his father than the course of a river. He was beaten. He saw
his case in its true light.
Mrs Nixon entered to clear the table. He turned away to hide his face,
and strode passionately off. Two hours elapsed before he appeared in
the shop. Nobody asked for him, but Mrs Nixon knew he was in the
attic. At noon, Maggie, with a peculiar look, told him that Auntie
Hamps had called and that he was to go and have dinner with her at one
o'clock, and that his father consented. Obviously, Maggie knew the
facts of the day. He was perturbed at the prospect of the visit. But
he was glad; he thought he could not have lived through a dinner at the
same table as Clara. He guessed that his auntie had been made aware of
the situation and wished to talk to him.
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