him Mrs. Gerald. She saw this house vacant,
and then a long stretch of time, and then--

"Oh," she sighed, choking back a desire to cry. With her hands she
brushed away a hot tear from each eye. Then she got up.

"It must be," she said to herself in thought. "It must be. It
should have been so long ago." And then--"Oh, thank God that papa
is dead Anyhow, he did not live to see this."

CHAPTER LIII

The explanation which Lester had concluded to be inevitable,
whether it led to separation or legalization of their hitherto banal
condition, followed quickly upon the appearance of Mr. O'Brien. On the
day Mr. O'Brien called he had gone on a journey to Hegewisch, a small
manufacturing town in Wisconsin, where he had been invited to witness
the trial of a new motor intended to operate elevators--with a
view to possible investment. When he came out to the house, interested
to tell Jennie something about it even in spite of the fact that he
was thinking of leaving her, he felt a sense of depression everywhere,
for Jennie, in spite of the serious and sensible conclusion she had
reached, was not one who could conceal her feelings easily. She was
brooding sadly over her proposed action, realizing that it was best to
leave but finding it hard to summon the courage which would let her
talk to him about it. She could not go without telling him what she
thought. He ought to want to leave her. She was absolutely convinced
that this one course of action--separation--was necessary
and advisable. She could not think of him as daring to make a
sacrifice of such proportions for her sake even if he wanted to. It
was impossible. It was astonishing to her that he had let things go
along as dangerously and silently as he had.

When he came in Jennie did her best to greet him with her
accustomed smile, but it was a pretty poor imitation.

"Everything all right?" she asked, using her customary phrase of
inquiry.

"Quite," he answered. "How are things with you?"

"Oh, just the same." She walked with him to the library, and he
poked at the open fire with a long-handled poker before turning around
to survey the room generally. It was five o'clock of a January
afternoon. Jennie had gone to one of the windows to lower the shade.
As she came back he looked at her critically. "You're not quite your
usual self, are you?" he asked, sensing something out of the common in
her attitude.

"Why, yes, I feel all right," she replied, but there