grey eyes, and
showed him a mouth that tempted, as she had done before she married this
other man to whom she was determined to be faithful. His thoughts were
momentarily bitter, but his words were gentle.

"I told you I wanted time to think." He pressed her hand and gave it
back to her. "And I have thought, and, since you are what you are, I
see, at present, no other way but yours."

"Oh." She was daunted by his formality.

"Shall I go up to Mrs. Caniper?"

"Yes," she said, puzzled. "But aren't you cold? Come into the kitchen
and you shall have some coffee. I had it ready in case you came. Your
hands--your cheeks--" She touched him lightly and led him to the kitchen
fire.

"I think we shall have more snow," he said, and his manner was snow
against her heart.

"Do you?" she said politely, but her anger dropped away as she saw his
face more clearly and knew he had not slept. She knew, too, that his
mind was as firmly fixed as hers, and she felt as if the whole world
were sliding from her, for this was not her lover: this was some ascetic
who had not yet forgotten his desires. He looked haggard, fierce with
renunciation and restraint, and she cried out, "Zebedee, darling, don't
look like that!"

He laughed a little, moved, and passed his hands over his face. "No," he
said sensibly.

He killed the words she had ready for him: she felt them fall, dead
things, into her throat, and hang helplessly in her breast. She handed
him the cup, and while he drank she stood beside the table and watched
him with despair and indignation. She had not imagined him thus changed:
she had expected the old adoring looks, the loving words, everything but
his caresses and his claims, and he treated her as though she were no
more to him than any other woman. She knew him to be just and honest,
but she thought him cruel and, aghast at the prospect of endless days
wherein he would not smile at her nor praise her, she doubted her
ability to live without him. She caught her breath in fear that his
habit of indifference would change to indifference indeed; and without
shame, she confessed that she would rather have him suffering through
love of her than living happily through lack of it.

Mechanically, she moved after him up the stairs, played her part, and
followed him down again; but when next he came, she had stiffened in
emulation of him, and they talked together like people who had known
each other for many years, but never known eac