It is as she has expected. His face and manner indicate fatigue. He brightens up and says with a show of gayety so evidently forced that Helen's lips tremble a little:
"Well, dearest!"
She goes slowly to him, and takes his hands which he is holding out to her. She looks at him wistfully, with a half sad little smile on her face. She says softly:
"Well?"
"You are all alone to-night? No receptions, nor 'affairs'?"
The glimmer-smile deepens a little, and she draws him towards the fire. She says—pushing him into the chair:
"Oh yes—plenty of them—Gladys gave a dinner to the Stones to-night."
"And you are not there?" with a little surprise in his voice, but an expression half-eager, half-pleased on his face.
She brightens as she notes the look, and says softly:
"No, I like this better."