The fact that he is beginning to joke once more we all consider most
encouraging...."
A paragraph or two more of this sort of thing and then Mr. Thomas'
signature. Galusha stared at the letter dully. This--this was what
he and Martha Phipps had awaited so long! This was the outcome of his
brilliant idea which was to save the Phipps' home... and its owner's
peace of mind... and Primmie... and ....
Oh, dear me! dear me!
Galusha walked slowly across the room to the chair by the window, and,
sitting down, continued to stare hopelessly at the letter in his hand.
He read it for the second time, but this rereading brought no comfort
whatever. Rather, it served to bring home to him the hard realities
of the whole wretched affair. Cousin Gussie's interest was what he had
banked on, and that interest was absolutely unapproachable. To write
Minor at the Boston office was a possibility, of course, but, in his
present frame of mind Galusha felt no hope that such a proceeding would
help. Thomas had written what amounted to that very thing; Thomas was
"practically certain" that Minor's views would agree with his. And,
besides, to write Minor meant another long wait, and Martha Phipps must
be very close to her limit of waiting. How could he summon the courage
to descend to the sitting room and tell her that she must prepare for
another period of waiting, with almost certain disappointment at the
end?
A temperament like Galusha Bangs' is capable of soaring to the heights
and descending to the depths.
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