appeared to have suddenly collapsed and withered into the gray hollows of decrepitude. Her heart contracted at the sight. She turned away, under the pretense of pulling off her gloves, and said:
"I made a plan when I was out this afternoon. I think you 'll like it."
"Let 's hear it," he said, turning back from the cards and watching her with a fond half-smile.
"Something I think you 'll like—oh, ever so much!" She patted and pinched the limp gloves into shape, not looking at him.
"Hit me with it," he said. "Mrs. Seymour's just given me that glass half full of brandy; you can't expect me to guess after that."
"That we should go back to San Francisco."
Her news had more effect than even she had expected. The colonel sat up as if he had been struck, his lips quivering into a smile that he feared to indulge.
"Do you mean that, Viola? Do you really mean it?" he asked.
"Of course I do. I thought you 'd like it."
"But do you like it? Do you want to go? Is n't there—would n't you rather stay here?"
"Oh, no." She struck lightly on the edge of the table with the gloves, avoiding his eyes. "I 'd rather be there. We 've had our little change, and we can go back. It 's our home,
