But suddenly it leapt from negatives to positives. He saw the face
of the girl in the shuttered House, so fair and young and yet so haggard.
It seemed to be appealing to him to rescue it from a great loneliness
and fear. Yes, he had been right, it had a strange look of his Janet--
the wide-open eyes, the solemn mouth. What was to become of that child
if he failed her in her need?

Now Dickson was a practical man, and this view of the case brought him
into a world which he understood. "It's fair ridiculous," he reflected.
"Nobody there to take a grip of things. Just a wheen Gorbals keelies
and the lad Heritage. Not a business man among the lot."

The alternatives, which hove before him like two great banks of
cloud, were altering their appearance. One was becoming faint and
tenuous; the other, solid as ever, was just a shade less black.
He lifted his eyes and saw in the near distance the corner of the
road which led to his home. "I must decide before I reach that corner,"
he told himself.

Then his mind became apathetic. He began to whistle dismally through
his teeth, watching the corner as it came nearer. The car stopped
with a jerk. "I'll go back," he said aloud, clambering down the steps.
The truth was he had decided five minutes before when he first saw
Janet's face.

He walked briskly to his house, entirely refusing to waste any more
energy on reflection. "This is a business proposition," he told
himself, "and I'm going to handle it as sich." Tibby was surprised
to see him and offered him tea in vain. "I'm just back for
a few minutes. Let's see the letters."