Their routine continued much as it had been for the past two years, but
to her tortured senses there was something ominous now in the brevity
of their contacts. Shep often remained away late and on his return
crept softly upstairs to his room without speaking to her, though she
left her light burning brightly.
Constance kept to her room, she hadn’t been well, and the doctor told
her to stay in bed for a few days. For several nights she heard Shep
moving about his room, and the maid told her that he had been going
over his clothing and was sending a box of old suits to some charitable
institution. A few days later he went into her room as she was having
breakfast in bed. She asked him to shift the tray for her, more for
something to say than because the service was necessary, and inquired
if he were feeling well, but without dispelling the hard glitter that
had become fixed in his eyes.
“Do you know when Leila’s coming home?” he inquired from the foot of
the bed.
“No; I haven’t heard. I’ve seen no one; the doctor told me to keep
quiet.”
“Yes; I suppose you have to do that,” he said without emotion. He went
out listlessly and as he passed her she put out her hand, touched his
sleeve; but he gave no sign that he was aware of the appeal the gesture
implied....
It was on a Saturday morning that he went in through his dressing room,
bade her good morning in much his old manner and rang for her coffee.
He had breakfasted, he said, and merely wanted to be sure that she was
comfortable.
“Thank you, Shep. I’m all right. I’ve been troubled about you,
dear--much more than about myself. But you look quite fit this morning.”
“Feeling fine,” he said. “This is a half day at the office and I want
to get on the job early. I’m dated up for a foursome this afternoon
with George, Bruce and Carroll; so I won’t be home till after the game.
You won’t mind?”
“Why, I’m delighted to have you go, Shep!”
“I always do the best I can, Connie,” he went on musingly. “I probably
make a lot of mistakes. I don’t believe God intended me for heavy work;
if he had he’d have made me bigger.”
“How foolish, Shep. You’re doing wonderfully. Isn’t everything going
smoothly at the office?”
“Just fine! I haven’t a thing to complain of!”
“Is everything all right now?” she asked, encouraged to hope for some
assurance of his faith in her.
“What isn’t all right will be--there’s always that!” he replied with a
laugh.
He lingered beside the bed and took her hand, bent over and kissed her,
let his cheek rest against hers in an old way of his.
“Good-bye,” he said from the door, and then with a smile--Shep’s
familiar, wistful little smile--he left her.