her voice. "He's perfectly content to let me play nursemaid and
housekeeper all day and loving wife in the evening."

Roxanne smiled again.

"You've got some beautiful clothes here."

"Yes, I have. Let me show you----"

"Beautiful," repeated Roxanne, interrupting, "but I'll have to run if
I'm going to catch my train."

She felt that her hands were trembling. She wanted to put them on this
woman and shake her--shake her. She wanted her locked up somewhere and
set to scrubbing floors.

"Beautiful," she repeated, "and I just came in for a moment."

"Well, I'm sorry Harry isn't here."

They moved toward the door.

"--and, oh," said Roxanne with an effort--yet her voice was still
gentle and her lips were smiling--"I think it's Argile's where you can
get those rompers. Good-by."

It was not until she had reached the station and bought her ticket to
Marlowe that Roxanne realized it was the first five minutes in six
months that her mind had been off Jeffrey.

IV

A week later Harry appeared at Marlowe, arrived unexpectedly at five
o'clock, and coming up the walk sank into a porch chair in a state of
exhaustion. Roxanne herself had had a busy day and was worn out. The
doctors were coming at five-thirty, bringing a celebrated nerve
specialist from New York. She was excited and thoroughly depressed,
but Harry's eyes made her sit down beside him.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, Roxanne," he denied. "I came to see how Jeff was doing.
Don't you bother about me."

"Harry," insisted Roxanne, "there's something the matter."

"Nothing," he repeated. "How's Jeff?"

Anxiety darkened her face.

"He's a little worse, Harry. Doctor Jewett has come on from New York.
They thought he could tell me something definite. He's going to try
and find whether this paralysis has anything to do with the original
blood clot."

Harry rose.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said jerkily. "I didn't know you expected a
consultation. I wouldn't have come. I thought I'd just rock on your
porch for an hour--"

"Sit down," she commanded.

Harry hesitated.

"Sit down, Harry, dear boy." Her kindness flooded out now--enveloped
him. "I know there's something the matter. You're white as a sheet.
I'm going to get you a cool bottle of beer."

All at once he collapsed into his chair and covered his face with his
hands.

"I can't make her happy," he said slowly. "I've tried and I've tried.
This morning we had some words about breakfast--I'd been g