saw only
her pretty face and neat figure and wondered why life was not arranged
so that such joy as he found with her could be steadily maintained. How
much more pleasant it would be. Then he would take up his wife's threat
again, and the wrinkles and moisture would return.

In the morning he came over from the hotel and opened his mail, but
there was nothing in it outside the ordinary run. For some reason he
felt as if something might come that way, and was relieved when all the
envelopes had been scanned and nothing suspicious noticed. He began
to feel the appetite that had been wanting before he had reached the
office, and decided before going out to the park to meet Carrie to drop
in at the Grand Pacific and have a pot of coffee and some rolls. While
the danger had not lessened, it had not as yet materialised, and with
him no news was good news. If he could only get plenty of time to think,
perhaps something would turn up. Surely, surely, this thing would not
drift along to catastrophe and he not find a way out.

His spirits fell, however, when, upon reaching the park, he waited and
waited and Carrie did not come. He held his favourite post for an hour
or more, then arose and began to walk about restlessly. Could something
have happened out there to keep her away? Could she have been reached
by his wife? Surely not. So little did he consider Drouet that it never
once occurred to him to worry about his finding out. He grew restless as
he ruminated, and then decided that perhaps it was nothing. She had not
been able to get away this morning. That was why no letter notifying him
had come. He would get one to-day. It would probably be on his desk when
he got back. He would look for it at once.

After a time he gave up waiting and drearily headed for the Madison car.
To add to his distress, the bright blue sky became overcast with little
fleecy clouds which shut out the sun. The wind veered to the east, and
by the time he reached his office it was threatening to drizzle all
afternoon.

He went in and examined his letters, but there was nothing from Carrie.
Fortunately, there was nothing from his wife either. He thanked his
stars that he did not have to confront that proposition just now when he
needed to think so much. He walked the floor again, pretending to be in
an ordinary mood, but secretly troubled beyond the expression of words.

At one-thirty he went to Rector's for lunch, and when he returned a
messenger w