He shook his head, but followed her into the small receiving-room. There he declined an offered chair.
"I've been in New York.... No, I did not see your family.... As for what I've been doing—"
Her lifted eyes betrayed no curiosity; a growing sense of depression crept over him.
"Oh, well," he said, "it doesn't matter." And turned toward the door.
She looked into the empty fireplace with a sigh; then, gently, "I don't mean to make it any drearier for you than I can help."
He considered her a moment.
"Are you really well, Shiela?"
"Why, yes; only a little tired. I do not sleep well."
He nodded toward the west wing of the house.
"Do they bother you?"