ter like a man who has just discovered that he, with
incredible stupidity, had overlooked the obvious. "I didn't think I'd
be away long," evaded he.

He saw Ursula off for the Continent, half promised to join her in a few
weeks at Aix. A day or so after her departure he had a violent fit of
blues, was haunted by a vision of the baby and the comfortable, peaceful
house on Long Island. He had expected to stay about two months longer.
"I'm sick of England and of hotels," he said, and closed up his business
and sailed the following week.

* * * * *

She and the baby were at the pier to meet him. He looked for signs of
the mourning Ursula had described, but he looked in vain. Never had he
seen her lovelier, or so sparkling. And how she did talk!--rattling on
and on, with those interesting commonplaces of domestic event--the baby,
the household, the garden, the baby--the horses, the dogs, the
baby--the servants, her new dresses, the baby--and so on, and so on--and
the baby.

But when they got into the motor at Hempstead station for the drive
home, silence fell upon her--he had been almost silent from the start of
the little journey. As the motor swung into the grounds, looking their
most beautiful for his homecoming, an enormous wave of pure delight
began to surge up in him, to swell, to rush, to break, dashing its spray
of tears into his eyes. He turned his head away to hide the too obvious
display of feeling. They went into the house, he carrying the baby. He
gave it to the nurse--and he and she were alone.

"It certainly is good to be home again," he said.

The words were the tamest commonplace. We always speak in the old
stereotyped commonplaces when we speak directly from the heart. His tone
made her glance quickly at him.

"Why, I believe you _are_ glad," said she.

He took her hand. They looked at each other. Suddenly she flung herself
wildly into his arms and clung to him in an agony of joy and fear. "Oh,
I missed you so!" she sobbed. "I missed you so!"

"It was frightful," said he. "It shall never happen again."

End of Project Gutenberg's The Grain Of Dust, by David Graham Phillips

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