"I wonder what's become of him! Do you think he's gone out, Judith?"
At last Judith closed her book and raised her head. "Why do you want Arthur now?"
"I only wondered what could have become of him."
"Perhaps he's gone to pack—ready for to-morrow, you know."
"Oh, nonsense! Barber would pack for him, of course—if he's going."
Judith, book in hand, rose from her chair. "I think I shall go to bed." She came across the room to where Bernadette sat. "You'd better too. You look tired."
"No, I'm not sleepy. I'm sure I couldn't sleep."
Judith bent down and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Never mind Arthur. You'd better let him alone to-night."
Bernadette longed to ask "What have you said to him?" But she would not; she shrank from bringing the matter into the open like that. It would mean a scene, she thought, and scenes she was steadfastly purposed to avoid—if possible.
"Well, he's behaving rather queerly, going on like this," she murmured peevishly.