elt even without
the usual complement of senses.

"That was--bothersome for a minute." His tone lent the words a quaint
accent of scare.

"Oh, well--if you have one at all--the way the service is now--"

"There won't be any telephone when we take our vacation together, that's
_settled_."

She had been kneeling, examining a bookcase for books. Now she turned
with one in her hand, her hair ruddy and smooth as ruddy amber in the
reflected light.

"No, but _telegrams_. And wireless," she whispered mockingly, the more
mockingly because it so obviously made him worried as a worried boy.
She came over and stood smoothing his ear a moment, a half-unconscious
customary gesture, no doubt, for he relaxed under it and the look of
rest came back. Then she went to her chair, sat down and opened the
book.

"No use borrowing trouble now, dear. Now listen. Cigar?" "Going."

"Ashtray?"

"Yes."

"And remember not to knock it over when you get excited. Promise?"

"Um."

"Very well."

Mrs. Severance's even voice began to flow into the stillness.

"As I was getting too big for Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt--"

XXI

"And that's the end of the chapter." Mrs. Severance's voice trailed off
into silence. She closed the book with a soft sound. The man whom it
might be rather more convenient than otherwise to call Mr. Severance
opened his eyes. He had not been asleep, but he had found by a good deal
of experience that he paid more attention to Dickens if he closed his
eyes while she read.

"Thank you dear."

"Thank you. You know I love it. Especially Pip."

He considered.

"There was a word one of my young men used the other day about Dickens.
Gusto, I think--yes, that was it. Well, I find that, as I grow older,
that seems to be the thing I value rather more than most men of my age.
Gusto." He smiled "Though I take it more quietly, perhaps,--than I did
when I was young," he added.

"You _are_ young" said Mrs. Severance carefully.

"Not really, dear. I can give half-a-dozen youngsters I know four
strokes in nine holes and beat them. I can handle the bank in half
the time and with half the worry that some of my people take to one
department. And for a little while more, Rose, I may be able to satisfy
you. But" and he passed a hand lightly over his hair. "It's grey, you
know," he ended.

"As if it mattered," said Mrs. Severance, a little pettishly.

"It does matter, Rose." His eyes darkened with memory--with the sort o