And there was a chill, too, in
this long waiting game.
* * * * *
Roger heard Deborah come up to bed, and he wondered what they had been
talking about. Of the topic he himself had broached--each other, love and
marriage?
"Possibly--for a minute or two--but no more," he grumbled. "For don't
forget there's work to discuss, there's that mass meeting still on her
mind. And God knows a woman's mind is never any child's play. But when you
load a mass meeting on top--"
Here he yawned long and noisily. His head ached, he felt sore and
weak--"from the evening's entertainment my other daughter gave me." No, he
was through, he had had enough. They could settle things to suit
themselves. Let Edith squander her money on frills, the more expensive the
better. Let her turn poor Johnny out of the house, let her give full play
to her motherhood. And if that scared Deborah out of marrying, let her stay
single and die an old maid. He had worried enough for his family. He wanted
a little peace in his house.
Drowsily he closed his eyes, and a picture came into his mind of the city
as he had seen it only a few nights before. It had been so cool, so calm
and still. At dusk he had been in the building of the great tower on
Madison Square; and when he had finished his business there, on an impulse
he had gone up to the top, and through a wide low window had stood a few
moments looking down.
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