The time hung very heavily on her hands. She tried
to go on with her studies, but it was a mere pretence.
Soon, she learnt that there was no hope; the sick man had sunk into
a state of unconsciousness from which he would probably not awake.
She haunted the neighbourhood of the house, or, in her lodging, sat
like one who waits, and the waiting was for she knew not what. There
was once more to be a great change in her life, but of what kind she
could not foresee. She wished her suffering had been more acute; her
only relative was dying, yet no tear would come to her eyes; it was
heartless, and to weep would have brought relief to her. She could
only sit and wait.
When Waymark came, on the evening of the next day, he heard that all
was over. Ida saw him, but only for a few minutes. In going away, he
paused by the gates of the silent house.
"The slums have avenged themselves," he said to himself sadly,
"though late."
CHAPTER XXXV
HOUSE-WARMING
On a Sunday afternoon in October, when Abraham Woodstock had lain in
his grave for three months, Waymark met Julian Casti by appointment
in Sloane Square, and they set forth together on a journey to
Peckham.
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