He would
like to go out himself in the evenings--yes, by George, this very night--it
would act like a tonic on his mind. Just for a moment, standing there, he
saw Cooper Union packed to the doors, he heard the ringing speeches, the
cheers. But no, it was not to be thought of. With this silent war going on
in his house he knew he must stay neutral. Watchful waiting was his course.
If he went out with Deborah, Edith would be distinctly hurt, and sitting
all evening here alone she would draw still deeper into herself. And so it
would be night after night, as it had been for many weeks. He would be
cooped up at home while Deborah did the running about.... In half the time
it takes to tell it, Roger had worked himself into a state where he felt
like a mighty badly used man.
"I wish you _would_ speak to her," he said. "I wish you could manage to
find time to be here more in the evenings. Edith worries so much and she's
trying so hard. A little sympathy now and then--"
"But she doesn't seem to want any from me," said his daughter, a bit
impatiently. "I know it's hard--of course it is. But what can I do? She
won't let me help. And besides--there are other families, you
know--thousands--really suffering--for the lack of all that we have here."
She smiled and kissed him quickly. "Good-night, dad dear, I've got to run."
And the door closed behind her.
CHAPTER XXVIII
After dinner that night, in the living room the two older children studied
their lessons and Edith sat mending a pair of rompers for little Tad.
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