short and sharp about something so entirely foreign from what he asked
her that he would have known that Susan knew.

Keith did wonder how many months it would be. Some way he had an idea
it would be very few now. As long as it was coming he wished it would
come, and come quick. This waiting business--On the whole he was glad
that Susan was cross, and that his father spent his days shut away in
his own room with orders that he was not to be disturbed. For, as for
talking about this thing--

It was toward the last of July that Keith discovered how indistinct
were growing the outlines of the big pictures on the wall at the end
of the hall. Day by day he had to walk nearer and nearer before he
could see them at all. He wondered just how many steps would bring him
to the wall itself. He was tempted once to count them--but he could
not bring himself to do that; so he knew then that in his heart he did
not want to know just how many days it would be before--

But there came a day when he was but two steps away. He told himself
it would be in two days then. But it did not come in two days. It did
not come in a week. Then, very suddenly, it came.

He woke up one morning to find it quite dark. For a minute he thought
it WAS dark; then the clock struck seven--and it was August.

Something within Keith seemed to snap then. The long-pent strain of
months gave way. With one agonized cry of "Dad, it's come--it's come!"
he sprang from the bed, then stood motionless in the middle of the
room, his arms outstretched. But when his father and Susan reached the
room he had fallen to the floor in a dead faint.