He tried to see his
business as it would be that autumn, to see the city, the nation, the world
as it would be in the months ahead. Repeatedly he fought off his fears.
But slowly and inexorably the sense of his helplessness grew clear.
"No, I must shut down," he thought.
* * * * *
On his way home that evening, in a crush at a turbulent corner he saw a big
truck jam into a taxi, and with a throb of rebellion he thought of his
son-in-law who was dead. Just the turn of a hair and Bruce might have lived
and been here to look after the children! At the prospect of the crisis,
the strain he saw before him, Roger again felt weak and old. He shook off
his dread and strode angrily on.
In his house, the rooms downstairs were still dismantled for the summer.
There was emptiness and silence but no serenity in them now, only the quiet
before the storm which he could feel from far and near was gathering about
his home. He heard Deborah on the floor above, and went up and found her
making his bed, for the chambermaid had not yet come. Her voice was a
little unnatural.
"It has been a hard day, hasn't it. I've got your bath-room ready," she
said. "Don't you want a nice cool bath? Supper will be ready soon."
When, a half hour later, somewhat refreshed, Roger came down to the table,
he noticed it was set for two.
"Isn't Allan coming?" he asked. Her mobile features tightened.
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