Her mop of reddish hair was tangled about her face, turned to one side on the pillows. The gold edges of her lashes rested delicately on her shadowed cheek. She heard Laurence, and stirred.
With a nauseous sense of inevitability, he waited for her to turn upon him her look of conscious sweetness.
"You were gone so long, Laurie!" She blinked at him and smiled drowsily.
"Yes," he said. "I went for a long walk."
She made a little mouth. "I've been back such a little while, I don't think you ought to leave me when it's Sunday, Laurie."
"You'll like me better if you don't see too much of me." His joke was stiff. He looked as though his false smile hurt him.
Winnie gazed at him. Her mouth began to quiver. "I get so lonesome, Laurie. Mamma Farley goes off with Bobby and May, and Alice is always poked away in her room!"
He did not answer this. "It's cold in here. Mother shouldn't have let the fire die down." He walked over to the grate and with his fingers laid some lumps out of the scuttle upon the hot coals. "Keep that shawl around you, Winnie. Hadn't I better call Mother and tell her to help you to get to bed?"
He came back to her. She did not speak to him. Tears rolled from her open eyes and left wet smears along her lifted face.
"All worn out, eh?" He touched her hair uncomfortably. "I'll call Mother. She always knows what to do for you. I don't."