"Yes," he replied. "It did no good." He knew that Edith was waiting for
more, but he kept doggedly silent.
"Well, dear," she said presently, "at least you did what you could for
her."
"I've never done what I could," he rejoined. "Not with any one of you." He
glanced at her with a twinge of pain. "I don't know as it would have helped
much if I had. This town is running away with itself. I want a rest now,
Edith, I want things quiet for a while." He felt her anxious, pitying look.
"Where's Deborah?" she asked him. "Gone back to school already?"
"I don't know where she is," he replied. And then he rose forlornly. "I
guess I'll be going back home," he said.
On his way, as his thoughts slowly cleared, the old uneasiness rose in his
mind. Would Deborah want to keep the house? Suppose she suggested moving to
some titty-tatty little flat. No, he would not stand in her way. But, Lord,
what an end to make of his life.
His home was almost dark inside, but he noticed rather to his surprise that
the rooms had already been put in order. He sank down on the living room
sofa and lay motionless for a while. How tired he was. From time to time he
drearily sighed. Yes, Deborah would find him old and life here dull and
lonely. Where was she to-night, he wondered. Couldn't she quit her zoo
school for one single afternoon? At last, when the room had grown pitch
dark, he heard the maid lighting the gas in the hall.
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