His Second Wife

bout the room, and then, with a sharp contraction of her brows and a quick breath, looking intently up at the ceiling. A vi

o tremble suddenly. "No, we're not going to think of her! It's dangerous! Be practical! To begin with, I must clear things up. I'll have a little talk with Joe. Poor Joe-it's going to be pretty dreadful. I'll stick by him, though, and I've got to learn how to keep him from going out of

t she bit her lips and smiled. She had dressed her hair becomingly and had donned a blue silk waist, on

The best way, I guess, is not to try to do much planning ahead just now. But I'd

bit dishevelled, and over his blunt kindly face had

er I'll try to fix things so that you can feel more free. You're only a ki

e window, where the

cup of co

ded, "Let's go now to-Amy's desk-and

hel-if you're to stay here, I want it to be as nearly like it was as I can." he gave a wincing frown. "I mean on the money side," he

n his cheek suddenly begin to twitch,

s office, she went w

a good deal disappointed. For there seemed to be nothing for her to do; she was made to feel that things would run

is how many is com

be any one

he woman's face was a look which sai

l, and then she left the child to me. I go out every Thursday and every other Sunday-afternoon and evening. Lucy the waitress takes my

She felt the woman glance at her s

reaming in through the pretty chintz curtains there; and its softness and its ease, its

there for

n pretty clothes and shops, in those brief exciting weeks, and shrewd counsel about men and what it was they wanted of women. How appallingly shallow and meaningless those conversatio

ven knows he'll be enough. He's the hardest kind, he doesn't cry, he keeps it all inside of him." She drew a deep breath. "How about this room?" She frowned and looked aro

sets. In Joe's she foun

er sister's closet and

e a moment longer, she

sence by

walk," she told herself as she turned

Joe were more intensely alone tog

sly, in her resolute groping in the dark for solid ground on which to stand, she was building up an ideal of her sister-and these women jarred on that. They came to her direct from a world, her sister's world, which she now va

nt to let go her hold as a friend. She was most solicitous about Joe and tried to come when he was at home. But as E

s talk was all of business. It seemed to Ethel that purposely Nourse shut her out of the conversation. His manner to her, though not u

even Joe took notice. He stopped bringing his partner home, and he drew close

, it stretched away to eternity; but at least she did not face it alone. Of Joe's grief she could have no doubt. Each week his blunt strong features displayed more lines of suffering; his high cheek-bones showed hard and grim. He was grateful, affectio

mewhere," he

assed the open door of a church. It was lighted, and the deep low rumble of an organ floated out. Joe stopped a moment irresolute, and then started to go inside. But a glan

uting all over the land," he told her once. "What's in it? What do they know

bitter then, but the n

about her h

e that! I was a brute! I won't again!

whispered, "i

two faced

all, she discovered, was to go with him in the small car which he used for his business. Driving this car through crowded streets amid a clamour and blare of horns and shouts and peals of laughter, the look on Joe's face made Ethel see how this dulled his grief, how

m the sea of doubts in which they had been plunged. He had come out of it, she soon learned, with an image of his wife that even Ethel vaguely felt was swiftly becoming so ideal as to have little or no resemblance to the woman who had die

house in the country, summer vacations. Year after year she had spent the hot months almost wholly in town because he could not afford to leave, although she herself had had many chances to go to friends in the mountains or up along the seasho

e tide of his belief, and she was glad that it was so. So the picture grew. Nor was it only when they talked. For often in long silences, when she thought he was reading his paper, she would glance up from her book and find

s, wondering what kind of a man he

o play like that, Joe?

long

ections, still her own deep adoration of her older sister, the whirl of happy memories of that vivid month in town, and the sense of all that Amy had been pla

g up her stocking as well, and went out Christmas Eve and bought candy canes and dogs and dolls and picture books.

the picture of Amy was stamped deep, idealized and beautified. In life it had been fascinating, but now it was almost heroic as well. It wa

e did not understand. The worn harassed expression she had so often seen on his face while his wife had been alive, the look of a man driven and drained of his vitality, was now gone; and in its p

business is," she thoug

uilding on that block appear. She felt lost, left out amid ceaseless tides of gaiety on every hand. She took long determined walks, and on these walks she donned the smart attractive clothes that she had bought with Amy. She strove to keep her mind on the sights, the faces of peop

'll get up out of this,

e a few month

when a buzz of talk would rise, she would begin with quick animation to converse with herself and be gay, or alert and argumentative. Her lips would move inaudibly. Now and then she would brightly smile and nod across the house at some friend she pretended to have seen. She e

grace and ease, but with it all the brilliancy to which Amy had been blind; the rich ferment of new ideas in women's lives, discussions, work of many kin

ce-notice me now, right here on the street? You, madam, in that limousine-look out and see

ddenly laughed aloud. But her laughter had a dang

silly and bur

" said

of a massive young policeman. Her last remark had been spoken

gasped. "E

inly,

e hurr

a kindlier tone, and in an offhand manner intended to seem casual he would ask where she had been that day or what book she was reading. And they would discuss it for a while. He took her to the

oser to her now, she had an awkward consciousness of being in her sister's place. No, not that exactly. Still, she did not care to think of it. She kept out of Amy's room. It had subtly

el Ethel had once read, the hero who had lost his wife had taken his grief in this same silent way; and the author had laid it down as a la

soft luxurious sable cloak. And as she turned, she detected a queerly uncertain look in Joe's eyes. But in an instant it was gone, and