Harry hesitated.
"Sit down, Harry, dear boy." Her kindness flooded out now--enveloped
him. "I know there's something the matter. You're white as a sheet.
I'm going to get you a cool bottle of beer."
All at once he collapsed into his chair and covered his face with his
hands.
"I can't make her happy," he said slowly. "I've tried and I've tried.
This morning we had some words about breakfast--I'd been getting my
breakfast down town--and--well, just after I went to the office she
left the house, went East to her mother's with George and a suitcase
full of lace underwear."
"Harry!"
"And I don't know---"
There was a crunch on the gravel, a car turning into the drive.
Roxanne uttered a little cry.
"It's Doctor Jewett."
"Oh, I'll---"
"You'll wait, won't you?" she interrupted abstractedly. He saw that
his problem had already died on the troubled surface of her mind.
There was an embarrassing minute of vague, elided introductions and
then Harry followed the party inside and watched them disappear up the
stairs. He went into the library and sat down on the big sofa.
For an hour he watched the sun creep up the patterned folds of the
chintz curtains. In the deep quiet a trapped wasp buzzing on the
inside of the window pane assumed the proportions of a clamor. From
time to time another buzzing drifted down from up-stairs, resembling
several more larger wasps caught on larger window-panes.
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