"Come then to dinner. I have not dined. Just waited and worried over you. Why didn't you telephone?"
"I didn't intend to be late. Have been walking the streets for an hour, thinking, thinking, thinking. Forgot the hour entirely!"
"Will! Walking the streets! What can possess you!"
"An evil spirit doubtless," he returned with a sad attempt to smile.
During the meal, his color returned and he talked considerably. But Alma noticed his tone was forced, and his dark deep-set eyes had a new haunted expression.
"Where is Harold?" he suddenly asked, looking at the empty chair where their eight year old boy usually sat.
"Harold! why Will, dear, what is making you so strange? You know he retires two hours before this."
"O yes," he replied absently. "I missed the little fellow—that is all. Never thought about the time."
Alma contemplated her husband with a sort of pity.
"He's so worn out, he really acts queer," she thought with a new consideration possessing her.