A Double Marriage
Then he lit a cigarette. The cool morning air whipped his face, seeming to woo him with a familiar touch. The street was still silent, and the silence brought memories back. This morning the old life whispered once more, telling him of moments they had once had together, laughing scornfully at his desertion, yet triumphant in his return. On the threshold of the door he hesitated, while his heart beat. It seemed to him that he heard a door open above. In another instant he would hear a voice calling him. He must not hear it. He darted out and slammed the door, and walked rapidly down the silent street. A sleepy policeman at the corner saluted him, as he turned the nearest corner. And on the first floor a window was raised, and a pathetic little figure in a white wrapper, with hair falling around her in great waves, and two childish blue eyes, looked out, and barely caught a glimpse of his tall figure disappearing round the corner. She closed the window and sighed; then she went back to bed again and slept till the maid brought her a cup of tea. “Has Mr Yelverton come back yet?” “I don't know, ma'am.”
The maid did not know he was out, but she had known him go early before to-day. He generally came back to breakfast.
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