Old Chester was so far away. It had seemed desirable when she first
thought of it; it was so near Mercer where business very often called
him. Besides, New York, with its throngs of people, where she had
lived for several years, had grown intolerable; in Old Chester she and
Lloyd had agreed she would have so much more privacy. But how
differently things had turned out! He did not have to come to Mercer
nearly so often as he had expected. Those visions of hers--which he
had not discouraged--of weekly or certainly fortnightly visits, had
faded into lengthening periods of three weeks, four weeks--the last
one was more than six weeks ago. "He can't leave his Alice!" she said
angrily to herself; "_I_ remember the time when he did not mind
leaving her." As for privacy, the great city, with its hurrying
indifferent crowds, was more private than this village of insistent
friendliness.
She leaned back in her chair and pressed her hands over her eyes; then
sat up quickly--she must not cry! Lloyd hated red eyes. But oh, she
was afraid!--afraid of what? She had no answer; as yet her fear was
without a name. She picked up her book, hurriedly; "I'll read," she
said to herself; "I won't think!" But for a long time she did not turn
a page.
However, by the time Mr. Pryor came back from the tea-party she was
outwardly tranquil, and looked up from her novel to welcome him and
laugh at his stories of his hostess.
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