Kenneth said nothing. He turned abruptly and strode away without even saying good night. Hands thrust deep into his pockets, his head hanging in disappointment and wounded pride, he hurried home without once turning to look back. …
Her ten days of vacation passed all too soon for Jane. She and Kenneth saw each other frequently, but never alone until the night before she returned to North Carolina. It was at a dance given in her honour. All evening he had been seeking a dance with her, but met with no success until the party was almost over. They danced in silence. Jane seemed suddenly sad. All evening she had been happy, gay, even flirtatious, but now that she was with Kenneth, her gaiety had been dropped like a mask. Half-way through the dance they came near a door that opened on a balcony overlooking a flower garden. Saying nothing to Jane, Kenneth danced her through the door and on to the balcony, where they sat on a bench that stood in the semi-darkness. Though it was December, the air was warm. No sound disturbed the silence of the night save the music and voices which floated through the open door.
“Haven’t you anything to say?” Kenneth anxiously inquired, taking one of Jane’s hands in his.
“Nothing except this—I don’t know whether I care for you or not,” said Jane as she freed her hand and drew herself away. Her voice was firm and determined. Kenneth, ignorant of the ways of a maid with a man, said nothing, but his shoulders drooped dejectedly.
“What happened the other night was madness—I was very foolish for allowing it.” She paused, and then went on. “Kenneth, I don’t know, I want my music, I want to see something of life I want to live! I just can’t tie myself down by marrying—I don’t know whether I’ll ever want to. You’ll have to wait—if you care to⸺”
It was half command, half question. He said nothing.
He did not know how she longed for him to argue with her, override her objections, convince her against her will. She waited a full minute. Still he sat there silent. She rose and re-entered the house, leaving him there alone.
CHAPTER VI
Life moved along evenly with Kenneth, busied with the multitude of duties with which the physician in the half-rural, half-urban towns of the South must deal. His days were filled with his blasto work and he was usually to be found in his office until ten or eleven o’clock every evening. Often he was roused in the middle of the night to attend some one of his patients. He did not mind this except when calls came to him from the outlying country districts. Not infrequently he made long trips of seven, eight, or ten miles into the country to treat some person who might just as well have called him during the previous day. He had purchased a Ford runabout in which he made these trips.
On a Sunday morning soon after his return to Central City, Kenneth with his mother, Mamie, and Bob attended the Mount Zion Baptist Church, but this he did without much eagerness, solely as a duty.