“It sounds fine.” Alice’s voice was not approving. “But what about Bobbie?”
Her sister passed her hand over her forehead and shivered slightly, glancing as she did so at the door of the adjoining bedroom. “Can’t you see that is why I cannot do it?” she cried with bitterness.
“Oh—you aren’t going to, then!” exclaimed Alice in a tone of relief. “I thought you said you had agreed to go.”
“I did. I must have been mad. I didn’t think of Bobbie, or of Donald, or anything, except that Billy and I loved each other, and were going away together, to be happier than I had ever dreamed of being in all my life. It all seemed so wonderful—almost like being born over again and living a new existence in a new and happier world. Then when I got home—” She hesitated, and a look of pain crossed her face.
“You weakened on the proposition, of course. That’s the effect of habit. It’s a wonderful thing how it keeps us in the straight and narrow path. I once heard a divorced woman say that it took her over a year to get out of the habit of being married to her first husband. What did Billy say when you told him you had changed your mind? I’ll bet he was furious.”
Again Mrs. Rogers seemed unable to meet her sister’s keen gaze. “I haven’t told him,” she exclaimed, her voice little more than a whisper.
“Good heavens! Why not?”
“Because he had gone away. He went to Denver that same night. Didn’t you know?”
“Now that you mention it, I believe I did hear you say that he was out of town. I thought it strange I hadn’t seen anything of him, lately. What did he go to Denver for? I must say, it seems rather inconsiderate of him, under the circumstances.”
“He went to Denver, Alice, because his property is there. He intends to sell out his interest in the mine, and close up his affairs so that we can go away together, don’t you see? He said he was going to dispose of everything he had, and put all the money in bonds, so that he would be free to go away, and stay away the rest of his life, if he felt like it.”