After Jim had gone, Henry sat still, gazing at the pencil, wondering weakly if the rough stuff of life was too much for him.
He glanced over toward the desk. Humphrey, pipe in mouth, was already at work. Hump had the gift of instant concentration. Even this morning, after all that had happened, he was hard at it. Though he had something to work for.
A sob was near. Henry had to close his eyes for a moment. His sensitive lips quivered.
Humphrey would be, seeing his Mildred again at the close of the day. Henry found himself entertaining the possibility of crawling shamefacedly around to Corinne.
Then he sat up stiffly. Felt in one pocket after another until he found a little red account-book. He hadn't made an entry for a week. Before Corinne came into his life he hadn't missed an entry for nearly two years.
He sat staring at it, pencil in hand.
His mouth set again.
He wrote:—
'Bkfst. Stanleys... 20c.'
He slipped the book into his pocket; compressed his lips for an instant; then reached for a wad of copy paper.