voice--and Ridgeley would read the newspaper, and she and Christopher
would make their plans for the day--

She rose and began to dress, but found herself suddenly panic-stricken
at the thought of the plans that Christopher might make. If they motored
off together, he would talk to her as he had talked in the grove of
birches--of the temple bells, and of the desert, and the strange
harbors--and how could she be sure that she would be strong enough to
resist--and what if she listened, and let him have his way?

She decided to eat her breakfast in bed, and rang for it. A note came up
from Christopher. "Don't stay up-stairs. Ridgeley left hours ago, and I
shan't enjoy my toast and bacon if you aren't opposite me. I have picked
a white rose to put by your plate. And I have a thousand things to say
to you--"

His words had a tonic effect. Oh, why not--? What earthly difference
would it make? And hadn't Browning said something like that--"_Who knows
but the world may end to-night_?"

She was not sure that was quite the way that Browning had put it, and
she thought she would like to be sure--she could almost see herself
saying it to Christopher.

So she went into her husband's room to get the book.

Ridgeley's books were on the shelf above his desk. They had nothing to
do with his medical library--that was down-stairs in his office, and now
and then he would bring up a great volume. But he had a literary side,
and he had revealed some of it to Anne in the days before he had been