laughed at him from the sink. He followed her into the small, hot,
neat kitchen, with the clean empty pint bottle and the quarter-
pint bottle turned upside down near the bright faucets, and the
enamel handles of the gas stove all turned out in an even row.
Bert remembered that the last time he had been here was a cold May
morning, when he and Nancy had made countless hot cakes. He had
met her at church, and walked home with her, and while they were
luxuriously finishing the last of the hot cakes the others had
burst in, with the usual harum-scarum plans for the day. But that
was May, and now it was July, and somehow the bloom seemed to be
gone from their relationship.

They talked pleasantly, and after awhile Mrs. Terhune came in and
talked, too. She was distressed about some shares she held in a
traction company and Bert was able to be of real service to her,
taking a careful memorandum, and promising to see her about it in
a day. "For I expect we'll see you round here in a day or two,"
she said with simple archness. She was well used to the demands of
Nancy's beaux. Nancy looked particularly innocent and expectant at
this, "Perhaps Mr. Bradley might come in and cheer you up, if I go
off with Mrs. Featherstone for the week-end?" she suggested
pleasantly. Mrs. Featherstone had been Virginia Belknap.

Bert presently bade her a cold good-bye. His reassurance to Mrs.
Terhune was made the next day by telephone, and life became dark
and dull to him. Certain things hurt him strangely--the sight of
places where she had taken off the shabby gloves; and had seated
herself happily opposite him for luncheon or tea; the sound of
music she had hummed. He wanted to see her--not feverishly,
nothing extreme, except that he wanted it every second of the