In the darkness they listened for a while to the rain. Then gradually Roger ceased to hear it. His breath came in long, steady sighs, even and assured. Anne rose quietly on her elbow until she could see his face faintly in the blackness. He looked very young in his sleep and remarkably like Rogie.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It was a windy March afternoon when Anne, having secured the services of Mrs. Horton's oldest daughter to look after Rogie while she did some necessary shopping, came face to face with Merle, a Merle she scarcely knew.
"Going right straight by me," Merle began gayly, but at Anne's astonishment Merle quieted to sincerity. "I don't blame you. I scarcely know myself," she went on with a whimsical gesture that included her own person, from expensive hat and furs to dainty shoes. "I say, Anne, come and have tea. If I don't talk to some one, I'll bust."
But even after she had given the order for an elaborate tea at the exclusive shop where she was evidently known, Merle did not begin. She asked after Rogie and chattered of everything she could think of, until Anne said finally:
"I've only got a few minutes, Merle. Betty Horton can't stay with Rogie after four. She has to be home when the other children come from school."
And then, almost without a break or change of tone, Merle said:
"I've been thinking a lot about you, Anne. I came near 'phoning you twice. I've left Tom."
"Left Tom!"
Merle nodded. "Anne, do you know how Tom took it? Did Roger say anything? I haven't seen a soul of them for three weeks."