Leland in the meanwhile had flung himself down into a chair beside the stove, and was lying there moodily with an unlighted pipe in his hand, when his wife came in. It was evident that he did not notice her, and she had misgivings as she noticed the weariness in his attitude. After all, he was her husband, and he looked very lonely in the big bare room. She sat down beside him and touched his arm. "Your friends have gone?" she said.
The man looked up sharply, and she saw the little glow in his eyes, which, however, faded out of them again.
"Yes," he said. "I hope we did not disturb you."
"You were suspiciously quiet. What were you plotting together?"
"Nothing," said Leland. "That is, nothing you would probably care to hear about."
Carrie felt repulsed, though she would not show it. She had meant to be amiable, and she was a somewhat determined young woman, so she tried again.
"Isn't it a little lonely here?" she said. "Why did you not come up to me? I have scarcely seen you the last few days."
Leland's smile was not exactly reassuring. "I don't want to trouble you too often. Besides, I have been out in the frost since early morning, and feel a little tired and drowsy. One naturally doesn't care to appear to any more disadvantage than is necessary."
Carrie's lips and brows straightened portentously. "Were you afraid I might point it out to you, or do you wish to make it evident to everybody that you are purposely keeping out of my way?"
"I suppose I should have thought of that, but it's a thing that never occurred to me. Still, you asked me another question, and, though perhaps it's weak of me, I can't help giving you an answer."