Lester had been away from Jennie so long now that the first severe wave of self-reproach had passed. He was still doubtful, but he preferred to stifle his misgivings. “Very well,” he replied, almost jokingly. “Only don’t let there be any fuss about it.”
“Do you really mean that, sweet?” she exclaimed, looking over at him; they had been spending the evening together quietly reading and chatting.
“I’ve thought about it a long while,” he replied. “I don’t see why not.”
She came over to him and sat on his knee, putting her arms upon his shoulders.
“I can scarcely believe you said that,” she said, looking at him curiously.
“Shall I take it back?” he asked.
“No, no. It’s agreed for April now. And we’ll go to Japan. You can’t change your mind. There won’t be any fuss. But my, what a trousseau I will prepare!”
He smiled a little constrainedly as she tousled his head; there was a missing note somewhere in this gamut of happiness; perhaps it was because he was getting old.
CHAPTER LVII
In the meantime Jennie was going her way, settling herself in the markedly different world in which henceforth she was to move. It seemed a terrible thing at first—this life without Lester. Despite her own strong individuality, her ways had become so involved with his that there seemed to be no possibility of disentangling them. Constantly she was with him in thought and action, just as though they had never separated. Where was he now? What was he doing? What was he saying? How was he looking? In the mornings when she woke it was with the sense that he must be beside her. At night as if she could not go to bed alone. He would come after a while surely—ah, no, of course he would not come. Dear heaven, think of that! Never any more. And she wanted him so.