Lois’ heart leaped. She had felt that another moment of live bait and reminiscences would be more than she could stand.
“You need some rest,” she said gratefully. “You have been tired out in our service.”
“Oh, I’m not tired at all,” he returned shortly. Her work seemed to catch his eye for the first time, in a desire to change the subject. “What are you making?”
“A ball for Redge. I made one for Zaidee, and he felt left out—he’s of a very jealous disposition,” she went on abstractedly. “Are you of a jealous disposition, Mr. Girard?”
“I!” He stopped short, with the air of one not accustomed to taking account of his own attributes, and apparently pondered the question as if for the first time. When he looked up to answer, it was with abrupt decision: “Yes, I am.”
“Don’t look so like a pirate,” said young Billy, giving him a thump on the back that sent them both out of the house, laughing, when Lois rose and went over to Justin’s side.
Husband and wife were at last alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
In the days that followed, Justin, going away in the morning very early with a set face, coming home very late in the evening with that set face still, hardly seemed to notice the children or Dosia. Some tremulous change had affected Dosia; her eyelashes were often mysteriously wet, though no one saw her weep.
“Justin has so much on his mind.” Lois kept repeating the words over and over, as if she found in them something by which to hold fast. Rich in beauty as she was, full of love and tender favor, with the sweetness and the pathos of an awakening soul, her husband seemed to have no eyes, no thought for her. That one murmured sentence in the hallway was all her food to live on—his only personal recognition of her.