"Just ten days, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"How did you happen to hear?"
"Why, I was at the Bulletin office when word was telephoned in. There was something about the description that struck me—I began to worry—then I went over with a reporter."
The door on Montgomery Street opened, and Dougal came in. He moved like a machine. His face was hard, his eyes glassy, as if he had not slept for many nights. He sat down like an automaton, pulled off his hat and let it drop carelessly to the floor.
"Where have you been?" Elsie asked him.
"I don't know. Just walking. Anywhere."
"Did you—?"
"Yes. I had to. I couldn't stand it not to."
Benton, the most composed of them all, pulled himself up in his chair. "Let's have something to drink," he suggested. He called the waiter and gave his order. A bottle was brought and the glasses filled. They seemed to awake, around the table, and each one took a glass. Benton raised his. They all drank in silence. Mabel, her eyes dimmed, held up two fingers. Elsie smiled.