“I don’t see her,” she called across her shoulder. “Mebbe she’s in the house yet.”
She closed the door reluctantly and came back to the bedside.
“No,” said Creed plaintively, lifting a doubtful hand to his confused head, “she ain’t here. She allowed you-all were mad at her, and I reckon she’ll keep out of sight.”
“But she had to come to see you—her wedded husband,” accused Judith sternly.
He nodded mutely with a motion of assent. He seemed to hope that the admission would please Judith. The broth stood untouched, cooling on the chair.
“Is she stayin’ down at Jim Cal’s?” came Judith’s next question.
“She never named it to me where she was stayin’,” returned Creed wearily. As before, Judith’s ill-concealed anger and hostility was as a sword of destruction to him; yet now he had more strength to endure with. “She just come—and now she’s gone.” He closed his eyes, and leaned his head back among his pillows. The white face looked so sunken that Judith’s heart misgave her.
“Won’t you eat your breakfast now, Mr. Bonbright?” she said stiffly.
“I don’t want any breakfast, thank you. I can’t eat,” returned Creed very low.
Judith pressed her lips hard together to refrain from mentioning Huldah again. She knew that she had injured Creed, yet for the life of her she could not get out one word of kindness. Finally she took her mending and sat down within sight of the bed, deceiving herself into the belief that he slept.