a.m. in which he did not think of the young woman who had flown
away with his tranquillity. All night long he tossed and
thought. He counted ten thousand black sheep jumping over a
pasture fence, but, after the task was done and the sheep had
scattered, he was as far from sleep as ever. Her face was
everywhere. Her voice filled his ear with music never-ceasing,
but it was not the lulling music that invites drowsiness. He
heard the clock strike the hours from one to eight, when he
arose, thoroughly disgusted with himself. Everything seemed to
taste bitter or to look blue. That breakfast was a great strain
on his natural politeness. He worshipped his mother, but in
several instances that morning he caught himself just in time to
prevent the utterance of some sharp rejoinder to her pleasant,
motherly queries. Twice she was compelled to repeat questions,
his mind being so far away that he heard nothing save words that
another woman had uttered, say twenty-four hours before. His
eyes were red, and there was a heavy droop to the lids; his tones
were drawling and his voice strangely without warmth; his face
was white and tired.

"You are not well, Grenfall," his mother said, peering anxiously
into his eyes. "The trip has done you up. Now, you must take a
good, long rest and recover from your vacation."

He smiled grimly.

"A man never needs a rest so much as he does at the end of his
vacation, eh, mother? Well, work will be restful. I shall go to
the office this morning and do three days' work before night.
That will prove to you that I am perfectly well."