by a memory of
vast rooms stretching out one after the other, hushed and cool, with
gracious shadows lending their mystery and romance to everything. With
sudden restlessness he rose, and walked over to the window; but the
smell of dust and dry, dead vegetation smothered him. Gertrude had raked
the long, sparse brown grass all in one direction; it had a grotesque
look of having been combed.

He seized his hat, and went to get Mr. Fulton's package from the
window-sill. He had barely turned toward the gate, however, when his
wife hurried out, remonstrating, apologizing, with an urgent hand on
his arm. "It is important that Mr. Fulton should get these papers
to-day," he said stiffly. It did not really matter whether Mr. Fulton
got the roll of agricultural papers to-day, to-morrow, or next week; but
Allison felt the necessity for doing something, it did not much matter
what, to crush down his growing despair; and this was the only thing
which suggested itself. Gertrude was persistent, however, in her
entreaties that he come back; it was frightfully hot, and he already
looked tired; she would take the papers to Mr. Fulton right after
luncheon. He yielded at last, from sheer languidness, and came silently
into the house. Gertrude's moist face, her loud, anxious voice, her
warm, clinging hand, were exceedingly disagreeable to him--so much so
that finally the desire to escape them became more importunate than any
other.

He was again standing by the window, gazing out, when his wife came into
the dining-room to set the table. He did not turn--gave no sign of
seeing her.

"What are you thinking about, Philip?" she asked presently, with an
effort to make her question sound casual.

"I am not thinking--at least I am trying not to," Allison answered, in a
somewhat strained, unnatural voice. Why would she not leave him alone?
Could she not see that he did not wish to talk?

"What was the last thing that you were thinking about before you
stopped?" Gertrude spoke with painstaking gaiety.

Would she always keep up this dissimulation? Allison asked himself. For
his part, he was done with it!

"I was thinking that this place was fit for a dog-kennel--and for
nothing else!" he said. All the bitterness that was eating out his heart
was in the low words.

"It does look pretty bad to-day," Gertrude acquiesced, after an
appreciable interval of time.

"_To-day!_" Allison gave a hard, contemptuous little laugh. "As though
it ever