As she stood at the bureau, buckle still unfastened, eyes and mind upon those few calm, precisely pruned lines of Dick's, there came a thought that dealt a deathblow to her long dying feminine folie de grandeur. While it was true she had not sought nor wished Dick's interest of any kind, the fact remained that he, after living in daily contact with her for six years, had been so little affected by her personality that he was letting her go without any sign of emotion. "But I am as indifferent to him as he to me." she urged upon herself in hope of some slight consolation. She instantly remembered that it was he, not she, who had begun the indifference. And then came the stinging, blood-heating recollection that he had used at his pleasure the only part of her that had been able to impress him as valuable to a man of purpose and achievement. Nor could she dismiss him with a contemptuous "low minded and unworthy," for she knew he was neither. Squirm how she would, she could not get away from the humiliating fact—"six years of me, and not even enough physical value to make his jealousy for a single moment triumph over his sense of self-respect!"
Winchie had finished breakfast and was playing with his wagon on the veranda. Helen was still at table. "Has Mr. Gallatin gone East with Dick?" she inquired, turning rosy red.
"No," replied Courtney, not noting Helen's color. If she had, she would have suspected nothing. When Helen came home in good spirits from that visit to Saint X, after the Chicago shopping trip, and was no longer ill at ease with Basil, Courtney—eager, as we all are, to seize the first pretext to be relieved of a weight upon conscience—assumed that she had got completely over her fancy. As for Basil, Courtney trusted him absolutely.
"But he's away, isn't he?" persisted Helen, after a pause. "Lizzie tells me his rooms haven't been disturbed for two nights."
"He went day before yesterday, I believe," said Courtney. "Did you see Richard this morning?"
"Just a minute. He was hurrying for the train when I came down."
"I thought he didn't look very well, last night," pursued Courtney.
Helen, absorbed in her own agitating thoughts, failed to respond to this lead; so she put the question direct. "How did he look this morning?"
"About as usual," replied Helen. "I didn't notice any change. He had on that new gray suit. It's very becoming. When's he coming back?"
Courtney seemed not to have heard. "He forgot to give me his address. Did he leave it with you?"