The fickle May sunshine vanished, and before the coming of twilight a bank of heavy gray clouds formed in the west, presaging a storm. They made a pretense of dining, while the rising wind swept gustily about the house and moaned in the chimneys like a thing in pain.
Storm still preserved his stoic calm, and George’s perturbation grew. It wasn’t natural, wasn’t like the Norman he had known from college days. The younger man had always been outwardly reserved, but such stern, almost deliberate self-repression was new to him and filled his friend with vague alarm.
“You didn’t close your eyes during the night before last, and you couldn’t have slept much last night, Norman, for I heard you walking the floor at all hours,” he remarked. “Don’t you think it would be well to call in Carr and have him look you over and give you something quieting? You’ll be ill if you keep this up.”
“I’m all right!” Storm responded with a touch of impatience. “Don’t worry about me, George. I’ll turn in early and by to-morrow I’ll get a fresh grip on myself——”
“I think you’ve got too tight a grip on yourself as it is,” George interrupted.
“What do you mean?” Storm shot the question at him almost fiercely. Was he under surveillance, his every mood and gesture subject to analysis? Why couldn’t the other let him alone?
“You’re not meeting this normally,” replied George in all seriousness. “Hang it all, I’d rather see you violent than like this! There’s something horrible about your calmness, the way you are clamping down your feelings! If you would just give way——”
“I can’t,” Storm protested in the first wholly honest speech which had passed his lips. “I’m all frozen up. For God’s sake, don’t nag me, George, because I’m about all in!”
The other subsided, but Storm could feel his eyes upon him, and their mute solicitude drove him to an inward frenzy. At all costs he must get away from that insistent scrutiny! He would lock himself in his room, feign sleep, illness, anything! George had served his turn, and Storm thanked fortune that business would of necessity demand the fussy, faithful little man’s presence in town the next day.
He was casting about for an excuse as they rose from the table when all at once the front door knocker sounded faintly, almost apologetically.