His foot stole out to the self-starter.
For the few minutes that remained of the interview she tried to undo her work, but the injury was too deep.

His life was too near its end for criticism to be anything but destructive; having no time to collect new treasure, he simply could not listen to her suggestion that those he most valued were imitation.

He hated her for holding such opinion.

Her soft tones, her eager concessions, her flattering sentences, could now make no impression upon a man whom half an hour before they would have completely won.
He bade her a cold good night, hardly more than bent his head, the chauffeur took the heavy coat from her, and the car had wheeled away before she was well inside her own doorway.
Pete's brown head was visible over the banisters.
"Hello, Mother!" he said.

"Did the old boy kidnap you ?" Mrs.Wayne came up slowly, stumbling over her long, blue draperies in her weariness and depression.
"Oh, Pete, my darling," she said, "I think I've spoiled everything." His heart stood still.