"Evelyn must be worse," I said aloud before I remembered that I was trying not to start conversation.
"Possibly so," he answered politely.
"I believe I'll go now and see if I can do anything to help Mrs. Chalmers; she must be worn out."
I put the Huxley back where he belonged and had turned again to wish Mr. Maxwell good night, when I found that he had at last unfastened his eyes from the bright fire and was looking toward me appealingly.
"Miss Fielding," he began with an unwonted timidity.
I had already opened the door to leave the room, but I came back a few steps, leaving the door wide open; and as I did so I heard, for the fifty-first time, the sound of Mrs. Chalmers' footfalls upon the stairs. She was coming down this time.
"Yes?" I said coldly in the direction of Mr. Maxwell.
"Miss Fielding, I am going away in the morning," he said rather awkwardly, as he pushed up a chair for me again, but I did not sit down. I leaned over a little and rested my elbows against its high leather back. He stood upon the hearth-rug, and even the shaded lights of the room brought out the troubled lines on his face. "I am going away on the same train that brings Chalmers home," he repeated.
"Yes."
"And I was anxious to talk with you a little before I go," he went on with considerable hesitation. My attitude was far from being encouraging. "You seem to be on friendly terms with her still—with Sophie, I mean."