As he spoke, Edith appeared in the doorway. “Dinner is almost ready,” she announced gaily. “Haven’t the others come down yet?”
CHAPTER XVI
Donald Rogers had given eight years of his life to working for the welfare of his wife and his little boy. He was a man of one idea, and to that he bent his every effort. It may be that, in his devotion to the future, he had neglected the present, but the thought that Edith, the woman whom he had trusted and believed in all these years, could be unfaithful to him had never crossed his mind. The very idea seemed monstrous—as he looked up and saw her sweet, familiar smile, he felt that he must be the victim of some weird and horrible mistake.
Edith, her face flushed and happy, beamed upon them from the open doorway. Hall was the first to speak.
“Not yet, Mrs. Rogers,” he said, then looked curiously at Donald, as he noted the latter’s silence.
“I suppose you two have been having a nice, long talk about your college days?” said Edith, glancing from Hall to her husband.
“Yes, in a way. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Rogers, we were talking about poor old Billy West.” He turned to Donald as he spoke, and failed to observe the look of horror that crossed Edith’s face.