.

Lydia folded her hands in her lap and sat looking at him intently. In
the tumult of her emotions there was neither bitterness nor resentment.
But a cloud had passed between her and the sun. She sat there a long
time, her face very pale and grave. After a time she laid her hand on
her husband's shoulder. She felt an intolerable need to feel him at
least physically near.

The telephone bell rang distinctly in the hall. Paul bounded to his
feet, wide awake.

"I bet that's the Washburn superintendent!" he cried. "He said they
might call me up here if they came to a decision." He had apparently
forgotten Lydia's presence, or else the fact that she knew nothing of
his affairs. He disappeared into the hall, his long, springy, active
step resounding quickly as he hurried to the instrument. Lydia heard his
voice, decisive, masterful, quiet, evidently dictating terms of some
bargain that had been hanging in the balance. When he came back, his
head was up, like a conqueror's. "I've got their contract!" he told her,
and then, snatching her up, he whirled her about, shouting out a "yip!
yip! yip!" of triumph.

In spite of herself Lydia's chin began to tremble. She felt a stinging
in her eyes. Paul saw these signs of emotion and was
conscience-stricken. "Oh, I'm a black-hearted monster!" he cried, in
burlesque contrition. "I must have dropped off just as you began your
spiel. But, Lydia, if _you'd_ taken that West Virginia trip, you'd go to
sleep if the Angel Gabriel were blowing his horn! I was gone three days,
you know, and, honest, I didn't have three hours' consecutive sleep!
Don't be too mad at me. Start over again. I'll listen to every word,
honest to gracious I will. I feel as waked up as a fighting cock,
anyhow, by this Washburn business! To think I've pulled that off at
last!"

"I'm not mad at _you_, Paul," said Lydia, trying to speak steadily, and
holding with desperate resolution to her purpose of communicating with
her husband. "I'm mad at the conditions that made you so sleepy you
couldn't keep awake! All I had to say is that I don't like our way of
life--I don't see that it's making us any better, and I want Ariadne--I
want our children to have a better one. I want you to help me make it
so."

Paul stared at her, stupefied by this attack on axioms. "Good gracious,
my dear! What are you talking about? 'Our way of life!' What do you
mean? There's nothing peculiar about the way we live. Our life is just
like ev