He shook his head. He could not tell her just then, but he could not trust his voice with a kindly lie.
"Oh, I thought surely we'd hear to-day— You've brought something for me?"
"It isn't much."
He gave her the little box—it was rain-soaked now—and saw her face fall as she peeped within. Always he had brought her some pretty extravagance on their anniversary. But she kissed him and sent him to his room to put on dry clothes.
They sat down to dinner, a special dinner with things they both liked and could not always have. And for a while he tried to be as merry as the occasion demanded. But not for long. His tongue fumbled over his poor little jokes and his laughter was lifeless. Shirley saw.
"David, look at me."
His eyes wavered, fell, then rose doggedly to hers.
"What's the matter? Something has happened. Do you mean it's—"
"Yes, Shirley. Dick Holden won."
For a moment she stared blankly at him, then burst into a storm of weeping. In an instant his own heartache was swallowed up in sorrow for her. He sprang to her side, catching her close and petting her, begging her "not to take it so," saying foolish brave things.