As to human wisdom, the best that can be said is that some of us are
less crazy than others. Also, that the habitually foolish person,
he who is foolish by preference--or by unalterable Fate--is less
disturbing than your usually sensible friend who suddenly becomes
fatuous.
This was realized by Joanna during the next few days. Cyrus caused her
serious alarm. On his new and larger air craft he worked with such
feverish haste that he forgot to eat or go to bed until reminded of
those habits. In the matter of eating he seemed to have lost all memory
as to when or how to do it. He poured tea instead of maple syrup on
his rice cakes; he recognized no difference in flavor between salt and
powdered sugar, marmalade or mustard. Joanna's strawberry shortcake,
the very best in the world--and his favorite dish--he regarded with
unseeing eyes and forgot to eat it. His reply to nearly all her demands
for information on whatever subject, was a smiling "Certainly, of
course."
But these were trifles. In his cup of bitterness there still were
dregs: and sleepless Fate had not forgotten them. The cup was to be
emptied. Late one afternoon, three days after the rebuff to his note,
his flowers and himself, he was returning from Springfield alone in his
motor. About a mile from Longfields, where the road ran through some
woods, he saw a figure on ahead, walking toward the village. It was a
female figure, short, slight, erect, and moving with a light and rather
jaunty step. It wore a continental hat, a white shirt waist and a white
skirt. He recognized this person at first glance, ran his car ahead of
her a short distance, then stopped at the side of the road, got out and
walked back to meet her. This time there was no elaborate salutation _à
la Grande Monarch_. It was a simple raising of his cap and a tentative,
humble minded greeting.
"Good day, Ruth."
"Good day, Cyrus."
She smiled, but the smile brought no sunshine to his heart; a
perfunctory smile of duty and good manners, such as might have
greeted any other human animal. And as she stood there, against the
dark background of the woods, calm, cold, beautiful, and oh! so far
away!--he saw aversion in her face and in every line of the rigid
little figure.