Tess snuggled nearer him. She wanted to forget how unhappy she'd been.
"Sure, I don't care now,—such a awful lot," she sighed.
Later in the evening, when he came into the hall of his home in Ithaca, he was greeted by his young sister, Babe.
"Fred," she called softly, "come on up, mother wants you."
For some minutes after taking off his hat, he remained in the lower hall considering just what to say to his mother. Shaking his head dismally, he mounted the stairs and went reluctantly to the front room. He hated scenes with his mother. He hated everything about the house, hated even the thought of going back to school. He wanted to take Tess away from the lake—make a home for her—to be with her always. How dear she had grown day by day since he'd married her! His very being fired at the memory of her clinging sweetness.
When he opened his mother's bedroom door and walked self-consciously forward to turn up the light, a fretful voice from the bed halted him.
"Fred, if you're going to make the room bright, please bring the screen forward."
He dropped his hand from the gas jet.
"It doesn't matter," said he, sulkily, and he moved to the foot of the bed. "Let it stay as it is.... Babe said you wanted me."
Mrs. Graves settled her glasses on the bridge of her nose and looked at him.