She had not taken off her clothes. He stood a moment
helplessly.
"Please don't _you_ talk to me!" His daughter fiercely whispered. "I can't
stand any more to-night!"
"I won't," he answered. "It's too late." Again there was a pause.
"What time is it?" she asked him. But he did not answer.
"Well, Laura," he said presently, "your sister has told me everything. She
has seen your husband--it's all arranged--and you're to stay here till it's
over ... You want to stay here, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Then it's settled," he went on. "There's only one thing--the other man. I
don't know who he is and I don't want to know. And I don't want you to know
him again. You're not to see him. Understand?" For a moment Laura was
silent.
"I'm going to marry him, father," she said. And standing in the darkened
room Roger stiffened sharply.
"Well," he answered, after a pause, "that's your affair. You're no longer a
child. I wish you were," he added.
Suddenly in the darkness Laura's hand came out clutching for his. But he
had already turned to the door.
"Good-night," he said, and left her.
In the hallway below he met Deborah, and to her questioning look he
replied, "All right, I guess. Now I'm going to bed." He went into his room
and closed the door.
As soon as Roger was alone, he knew this was the hardest part--to be here
by himself in this intimate room, with this worn blue rug, these pictures
and this old mahogany bed.
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