"There! You need not be anxious or become excited. I know; you realized how much depends on this, and became a little discouraged and fearful. I don't want you to feel so; just do your best. If you fail, surely I could not blame you. But you will not fail. You are gloriously equipped for the wife of an ambitious man," in a tone of elation.
He is, nevertheless, preoccupied, and though he still clasps her hands, the pressure has grown very slight, and indeed her hands remain in his only because she holds them there. He seems to forget her, and is studying the carpet. She stands looking at him. Presently she says:
"Kiss me—will you?"
He stoops and brushes her forehead lightly, with his lips. She lets her hands fall inertly at her side. She, too, stands studying the carpet. He says, brusquely:
"I will leave you now and let you finish dressing. I am to meet Austin at the Arlington at nine. It is after eight now," looking at his watch and turning hastily to the door.
"I shall count on you, Helen. Things must come to a focus to-night."
She stands a moment looking at the closed door where he has gone out, and then walks back to the dressing-table. She stands fingering some of the manicure apparatus lying on it, disorderly, with the rest of the table's contents. Once, she puts her hand to her throat as though she were choking. She gets a sight of her face in the mirror, and holds her breath for an instant. She is ghastly. There are deep rings under her eyes. She nervously rubs a hare's foot over her cheeks, and they blush a little—for the evening.
She slowly crosses the room and rings her bell; then returns to her chair and sits down.
Susanne appears, uncertain in manner, in the doorway.
"You may finish dressing me, Susanne."