e alone--waiting."

"If you 'ain't learned the demands of my business by now, I'm not going
over them again."

"Yes; but not all--"

"You ought to have some men to deal with. I'd like to see Mrs. Unger try to
dictate to him how to run his business."

"You've left me behind, Harry. I--try to keep up, but--I can't. I ain't
the woman to naturally paint my hair this way. It's my trying to keep up,
Harry, with you and--and--Edwin. These clothes--I ain't right in 'em,
Harry; I know that. That's why I can't stand it. The suspense. The waiting
up nights. I tell you I'm going crazy. Crazy with knowing I'm left behind."

"I never told you to paint up your hair like a freak."

"I thought, Harry--the color--like hers--it might make me seem younger--"

"You thought! You're always thinking."

She stood behind him now over the couch, her hand yearning toward but not
touching him.

"O God! Harry, ain't there no way I can please you no more--no way?"

"You can please me by acting like a human being and not getting me home on
wild-goose chases like this."

"But I can't stand it, Harry! The quiet. Nobody to do for. You always gone.
Edwin. The way the servants--laugh. I ain't smart enough, like some women.
I got to show it--that my heart's breaking."

"Go to matinees; go--"

"Tell me how to make myself like Alma Zitelle to you, Harry. For God's
sake, tell me!"

He looked away from her, the red rising up above the rear of his collar.

"You're going to drive me crazy desperate, too, some day, on that jealousy
stuff. I'm trying to do the right thing by you and hold myself in,
but--there's limits."

"Harry, it--ain't jealousy. I could stand anything if I only knew. If you'd
only come out with it. Not keep me sitting here night after night, when I
know you--you're with her. It's the suspense, Harry, as much as anything is
killing me. I could stand it, maybe, if I only knew. If I only knew!"

He sprang up, wheeling to face her across the couch.

"You mean that?"

"Harry!"

"Well, then, since you're the one wants it, since you're forcing me to
it--I'll end your suspense, Millie. Yes. Let me go, Millie. There's no use
trying to keep life in something that's dead. Let me go."

She stood looking at him, cheeks cased in palms, and her sagging
eye-sockets seeming to darken, even as she stared.

"You--her--"

"It happens every day, Millie. Man and woman grow apart, that's all. Your
own son is man enough to understand that.