"
Bartley and his wife stood silent for a long time; the fire crackled in
the grate, the rain beat insistently upon the windows, and the sleepy
Angora looked up at them curiously.
Presently Thomas made a discreet sound at the door. "Shall Edward bring
down your trunks, sir?"
"Yes; they are ready. Tell him not to forget the big portfolio on the
study table."
Thomas withdrew, closing the door softly. Bartley turned away from his
wife, still holding her hand. "It never gets any easier, Winifred."
They both started at the sound of the carriage on the pavement outside.
Alexander sat down and leaned his head on his hand. His wife bent over
him. "Courage," she said gayly. Bartley rose and rang the bell. Thomas
brought him his hat and stick and ulster. At the sight of these, the
supercilious Angora moved restlessly, quitted her red cushion by
the fire, and came up, waving her tail in vexation at these ominous
indications of change. Alexander stooped to stroke her, and then plunged
into his coat and drew on his gloves. His wife held his stick, smiling.
Bartley smiled too, and his eyes cleared. "I'll work like the devil,
Winifred, and be home again before you realize I've gone." He kissed her
quickly several times, hurried out of the front door into the rain, and
waved to her from the carriage window as the driver was starting his
melancholy, dripping black horses. Alexander sat with his hands clenched
on his knees. As the carriage turned up the hill, he lifted one hand and
brought it down violently.
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