"She must be very rich. Did you know they were coming?"
"No, indeed."
"Where do they live?"
Levis had opened his book at the letter "D," and did not answer. The uneasy sensation in his heart had sharpened once or twice in the last hour to an acute though fleeting pain, gone as soon as it was felt. He had seen Stephen, but the visit seemed to make impossible all that he had hoped for.
For a moment, in curiosity about Hilda's behavior, he forgot his own problems. He had found the article which he wished to consult under the letter "D," but he could not fix his mind on what he read. It was in reality something within his own breast which disturbed him, but it seemed to him that it was Ellen hanging over his shoulder and cutting off the air which he needed.
"I wish you'd run away, Ellen, for a little while. I'll talk to you later about these people."
"All right," said Ellen cheerfully, remembering her own unwillingness to be interrupted. She read over his shoulder—"'Dementia'—Father, who has that?"
"No one that I know of, Missy."
"I expect you think I have it. Well, read away, I won't bother."
Levis smiled at the tone of maternal indulgence, then he returned to his book. Again he put his hand over his heart uneasily. The sensation was now of weak fingers moving gently. He coughed, then he looked at Ellen who had sat down at her table. What a strange woman Lanfair's wife was! What had annoyed her? Most wives who brought fortunes proved to be impeditive in some fashion—there was unquestionably an impediment here! He turned a page and read for a moment. There was a mental disorder difficult to distinguish in early stages from sheer devilishness of disposition; and patients had peculiar traits and nervous ways like this woman. Poor Lanfair! Perhaps he would return and confide in his old friend. He had looked as though he needed a refuge.