Then instinctively the fingers of his left hand tightened as one who already grips the reins.
Immersed in this reflection he did not notice Sheila's soft entrance. By a caprice, instead of making a toilette for the anniversary she had put on a plain dress of black, either to render herself less desirable or to appeal to his compassion. She stood a moment silently, her glance bent gravely upon him. Then, advancing with a smile, she said lightly:
"Heavens, Alonzo, you have something on your mind!"
Bofinger, startled, turned about in haste, losing all his effect.
"Do you know what night this is?" she asked, stealing his thunder.
"I have come to congratulate you on your widowhood," he said hurriedly. "Is that why you have gone into mourning?"
"And are those flowers for me?" she asked with a gesture.
"Eh," he cried, and, turning clumsily, hastily presented them. To restore his equanimity he began to smoke, while Sheila, after touching the flowers of the bouquet one by one, finally laid them down on her lap and said:
"Do you know that, until a few months ago, I expected him to turn up at any moment."
"Well, at times I had the same idea," he said with a nod. "A sort of superstition. However, if the waiting was long it's over now. Sheila, own up, I haven't been a half bad fellow, have I? Have you any complaint coming?"