'Don't turn the light on.' Then, 'Is it you, Hen?'
There they were--over in the farther window-seat--sitting very still,
huddled together--a mere faint shape against the dim outside light. He
felt his way around the centre table, toward them.
'Looking for you,' he said. His voice was husky. There was a throbbing
in his temples. And he was curiously breathless.
He stood. It was going to be hard to tell them. He hadn't thought of
this; had just rushed over here, headlong.
'I suppose it's pretty late,' said Mildred. There was a dreamy quality
in her voice that Henry had not heard there before. He stood silent.
'Well'--Humphrey's voice had the dry, even slightly acid quality that
now and then crept into it--'anything special, Hen? Here we are!'
Henry cleared his throat. That huskiness seemed unconquerable. And his
over-vivid imagination was playing fantastic tricks on him. Hideous
little pictures, very clear. Wives murdering husbands; husbands
murdering lovers; dragged-out, soul-crushing scenes in dingy,
high-ceiled court-rooms.
Humphrey got up, drew down the window shade behind Mrs Henderson, and
turned on the light. She shielded her eyes with a slim hand.
Henry, staring at her, felt her littleness; paused in the rush of his
thoughts to dwell on it. She looked prettier to-night, too. The softness
that had been in her voice was in her face as well, particularly about
the half-shadowed mouth. She was always pretty, but in a trim, neat,
brisk way. Now, curled up there in the window-seat, her feet under
her very quiet', she seemed like a little girl that you would have to
protect from the world and give toys to.
Henry, to his own amazement--and chagrin--covered his face and sobbed.
'Good lord!' said Humphrey. 'What's all this? What's the matter?'
The long silence that followed was broken by Mildred. Still shielding
her eyes, without stirring, she asked, quietly:--
'Has my husband come home?'
Henry nodded.
'Where's Corinne?'
'She--she's waiting on the corner, in case you....
Mildred moved now; dropped her chin into her hand, pursed her lips a
little, seemed to be studying out the pattern of the rug.
'Did he--did he see either of you?'
Henry shook his head.
Mildred pressed a finger to her lips.
'We mustn't leave Corinne waiting out there,' she said.
Humphrey dropped down beside her and took her hand. His rather sombre
gaze settled on her face and hair. Thus they sat until, slowly, she
raised her head and looked into his eyes. Then his lips framed the
question:--
'Stay here?'
Her eyes widened a little, and slowly filled. She gave him her other
hand. But she shook her head.
A little later he said.
'Come then, dear. We'll go down there.'
From the top of the stairs he switched on a light in the shop. Mildred,
very palet went down. Henry was about to follow. But he saw Humphrey
standing, darting glances about the room, softly snapping his bony
fingers. The long, swarthy face was wrinkled into a scowl. His eyes
rested on Henry. He gave a little sigh; threw out his hands.
'It's--it's the limit!' he whispered. 'You see--my hat....'
That seemed to be all he could say. His face was twisted with emotion.
His mouth even moved a little. But no sound came.
Henry stood waiting. At the moment his surging, uncontrollable emotion
took the form of embarrassment. It seemed to him that in this crisis
he ought to be polite toward his friend. But they couldn't stand here
indefinitely without speaking. There was need, particular need, of
politeness toward Mildred Henderson. So, mumbling, he followed her
downstairs and out through the shop to the deserted alley.
Then they went down to Chestnut Avenue. Mildred and Humphrey were
silent, Walking close together, arm in arm. Henry, in some measure
recovered from his little breakdown, or relieved by it, tried to make
talk. He spoke of the stillness of the night. He said, 'It's the only
time I like the town--after midnight. You don't have to see the people
then.'
Then, as they offered no reply, he too fell still.
Corinne, when they found her leaning against a big maple, was in a
practical frame of mind.
'There he is,' she whispered. 'Been sitting right there all the time.
This is his third cigar. Now listen, Mildred. I've figured it all out.
No good in letting ourselves get excited. It's all right. You and I will
walk up with Henry. Just take it for granted that you've been down to
the lake with us. We needn't even explain.'
Mildred, still nestling close to Humphrey's arm, seemed to be looking at
her.
Then they heard her draw in her breath rather sharply, and her hand
groped up toward Humphrey's shoulder.
'Wait!' she said breathlessly. 'I can't go in there now. Not right now.
Wait a little. I can't!'
Humphrey led her away into the shadows.