The old man noticed this. He put on his shabby felt hat, and went down the street, and brought in a copy of the Daily News.
"I don't remember what you like, but will this do?" he asked.
He was quite proud of himself for showing her this attention, almost as proud as the Disagreeable Man, when he did something kind and thoughtful.
Bernardine thought of him, and the tears came into her eyes at once. When did she not think of him? Then she glanced at the front sheet, and in the death column her eye rested on his name: and she read that Robert Allitsen's mother had passed away. So the Disagreeable Man had won his freedom at last. His words echoed back to her:
"But I know how to wait: if I have not learnt anything else, I have learnt how to wait. And some day I shall be free. And then . . . ."
CHAPTER II.
BERNARDINE BEGINS HER BOOK.
AFTER the announcement of Mrs. Allitsen's death, Bernardine lived in a misery of suspense. Every day she scanned the obituary, fearing to find the record of another death, fearing and yet wishing to know. The Disagreeable Man had yearned for his freedom these many years, and now he was at liberty to do what he chose with his poor life. It was of no value to him. Many a time she sat and shuddered. Many a time she began to write to him. Then she remembered that after all he had cared nothing for her companionship. He would not wish to hear from her. And besides, what had she to say to him?
A feeling of desolation came over her. It was not enough for her to take care of the old man who was drawing nearer to her every day; nor was it enough for her to dust the books, and serve any chance customers who might look in. In the midst of her trouble she remembered some of her old ambitions; and she turned to them for comfort as we turn to old friends.
"I will try to begin my book," she said to herself. "If I can only get interested in it, I shall forget my anxiety!"