On his way home that evening, in a crush at a turbulent corner he saw a big truck jam into a taxi, and with a throb of rebellion he thought of his son-in-law who was dead. Just the turn of a hair and Bruce might have lived and been here to look after the children! At the prospect of the crisis, the strain he saw before him, Roger again felt weak and old. He shook off his dread and strode angrily on.
In his house, the rooms downstairs were still dismantled for the summer. There was emptiness and silence but no serenity in them now, only the quiet before the storm which he could feel from far and near was gathering about his home. He heard Deborah on the floor above, and went up and found her making his bed, for the chambermaid had not yet come. Her voice was a little unnatural.
"It has been a hard day, hasn't it. I've got your bath-room ready," she said. "Don't you want a nice cool bath? Supper will be ready soon."
When, a half hour later, somewhat refreshed, Roger came down to the table, he noticed it was set for two.
"Isn't Allan coming?" he asked. Her mobile features tightened.
"Not till later," she replied.
They talked little and the meal was short. But afterwards, on the wooden porch, Deborah turned to her father,
"Now tell me about your office," she said.
"There's not enough business to pay the rent."