They wrote no notes to each other now. It had been different since
that day. They made small effort to cover their raw souls with the
mantle of commonplace words.

Both of them had tried to stay away that last day. But both were in
their usual places.

The day wore on eventlessly. Those men with whom she had worked, the
men of yesterday, who had been kind to her, came up at various times
for little farewell chats. The man in the skull cap told her that
she had done excellent work. She was surprised at the ease with
which she could make decent reply, thinking again that it was
queer--what one could do.

He was moving. She saw him lay some sheets of yellow paper on the
desk in front. He had finished with his "take." There would not be
another to give him. He would go now.

He came back to his desk. She could hear him putting away his
things. And then for a long time there was no sound. She knew that
he was just sitting there in his chair.

Then she heard him get up. She heard him push his chair up to the
table, and then for a minute he stood there. She wanted to turn
toward him; she wanted to say something--do something. But she had
no power.

She saw him lay an envelope upon her desk. She heard him walking
away. She knew, numbly, that his footsteps were not steady. She knew
that he had stopped; she was sure that he was looking back. But