mond?" I asked, after a scarcely perceptible pause. He turned and faced me, with his hands thrust in his pockets.
"No. That's off, Lollie. The Seiberts are going for a week's cruise along the coast. I—the hot weather has played hob with me and the cruise means seven days' breeze and bridge."
I lighted a cigarette and offered him the box, but he refused. He was looking haggard and suddenly tired. I could not think of anything to say, and neither could he, evidently. The matter between us lay too deep for speech.
"How's Candida?" he asked.
"Martin says a month, and she will be all right," I returned, in the same tone. He picked up his hat, but he had something more to say. He blurted it out, finally, half way to the door.
"The Seiberts are not going for a couple of days," he said, "and if you want a day or so off to go down to Richmond yourself—"
"Perhaps I shall," I returned, as indifferently as I could. "Not going yet, are you?"
"Yes. It is late." He drew in his breath as if he had something more to say, but the im-
