I had risen as my fury sought to master me. I stood beside the bed looking down at her ... making an ineffectual last-ditch fight for my self-control. Something about the woman ... the very quality of her night-dress—the heavily jewelled fingers—maddened me. The poison coursed through my veins like quick-silver ... once before in my life I had felt it ... before my boy was born ... then I had succumbed to a desire to wreak physical vengeance ... the same madness seized me now ... I saw her shrink from me....
"O, you—you ——!"
... I didn't say it; I caught myself in time. The blood stained my face with shame—shame with the very coarseness of the thought; shame with the whole revolting situation. Was I, too, become impregnated with the corroding influence of my environment? I turned and walked toward the door. As I reached for the knob, it opened and some one entered abruptly. I jumped aside to avoid being struck.
I knew who he was though I had never seen him before. The next moment I had reached for his hand and grasped it impulsively, at the same time laying a warning finger on my lips and indicating the bed.
"O, Mr. F., you don't know how glad I am to see you. We've been worried to death ... she's asleep now, after the most racking night ... do you mind not waking her for the present?... of course if you'd rather ..." I waited while he looked at the figure of his wife, lying helpless with her face to the wall, while his eyes roved to question those of the sister, then back to mine with the single word:
"Sick?... How long has she been sick?"
"Ever since we arrived here; it's the grippe, I think, though we couldn't induce her to see a doctor. She's been so upset at not hearing from you.... Do you mind stepping into the hall where we can talk more freely without danger of disturbing her?... Edith will call us if she awakens, won't you, Edith?" ...
* * * *
Edith did not call. The hall was draughty; I managed a sneeze. Mr. F. suggested that we go down to the grill and have a drink. In the elevator I saw him glance furtively at me.... I was humming softly to myself. I watched his eyes in the mirror; they had a confused look not unmixed with suspicion. Not until after the second cocktail did he thaw a bit. He asked me whether I had dined. I told him I had not. After he had ordered, he leaned back in his chair and gave me a penetrating look. I met his eyes and smiled a little.
"You look tired," I said.