seen me, lying down, as he must have been, or that he hadn't
recognized me, but I knew that I couldn't make myself believe
that; and the lack of just that word from him spoiled all my
satisfaction with myself, and I walked out with Mrs. Gates
through the hall and past the dining-room feeling as hurt as
though I'd deserved that a man like Latimer should notice me.

The dining-room was all lighted, but empty--the colored, shaded
candlesticks glowing down on the cut glass and silver, on
delicate china and flowers. The ladies and gentlemen hadn't come
out to supper yet; at least, only one was there. He was standing
with his back to me, before the sideboard, pouring out a glass of
something from a decanter. He turned at the rustle of my starched
skirt, and, as I passed the door, he saw me. I saw him, too, and
hurried away.

Yes, I knew him. Just you wait.

I got home here earlier than I'd expected, and I'd just got off
my hat and jacket and put away that snug little check when there
came a ring at the bell.

I thought it was you, Mag--that you'd forgotten your key. I was
so sure of it that I pulled the door open wide with a flourish
and--

And admitted--Edward!

Yes, Edward, husband of the Dowager. The same red-faced,
big-necked old fellow, husky-voiced with whisky now, just as he