Lanse had had his sofa drawn up to the open door of the little high balcony; he was smoking and looking out upon the moonlight.
He, too, spoke of the rumor about Garda. "I wonder why Evert didn't try for her?" he said.
His wife made no reply.
"Never married all this time—yet he was the very fellow for it! Steady, you know; good; a little stupid. It's outrageous the way he treats us—never coming here!"
Lanse was still crippled; but his face remained handsome. Save for his crippled condition, he appeared well and strong.
After a while he turned from the moonlight and sat idly watching his wife's hand move over her work. "Do you know that you've grown old, Madge, before your time?"
"Yes, I know it."
"Well—you're a good woman," said Lanse.
THE END.