,
he read aloud to her from Rossetti. Nothing could have been more
conventional than their conversation, nothing more impersonal. But on
his way home one feature of their talk suddenly occurred to him. It
struck him as significant; but of what he did not care to put into
words. Neither he nor Laura had once spoken of Jadwin throughout the
entire evening.

Little by little the companionship grew. Corthell shut his eyes, his
ears. The thought of Laura, the recollection of their last evening
together, the anticipation of the next meeting filled all his waking
hours. He refused to think; he resigned himself to the drift of the
current. Jadwin he rarely saw. But on those few occasions when he and
Laura's husband met, he could detect no lack of cordiality in the
other's greeting. Once even Jadwin had remarked:

"I'm very glad you have come to see Mrs. Jadwin, Corthell. I have to be
away so much these days, I'm afraid she would be lonesome if it wasn't
for some one like you to drop in now and then and talk art to her."

By slow degrees the companionship trended toward intimacy. At the
various theatres and concerts he was her escort. He called upon her two
or three times each week. At his studio entertainments Laura was always
present. How--Corthell asked himself--did she regard the affair? She
gave him no sign; she never intimated that his presence was otherwise
than agreeable. Was this tacit acquiescence of hers an encouragement?
Was she willing to afficher herself, as a married woman, with a
cavalier? Her married life was intolerable, he was sure of that; her
husband uncongenial. He told himself that she detested him.

Once, however, this belief was rather shocked by an unexpected and (to
him) an inconsistent reaction on Laura's part. She had made an
engagement with him to spend an afternoon in the Art Institute, looking
over certain newly acquired canvases. But upon calling for her an hour
after luncheon he was informed that Mrs. Jadwin was not at home. When
next she saw him she told him that she had spent the entire day with
her husband. They had taken an early train and had gone up to Geneva
Lake to look over their country house, and to prepare for its opening,
later on in the spring. They had taken the decision so unexpectedly
that she had no time to tell him of the change in her plans. Corthell
wondered if she had--as a matter of fact--forgotten all about her
appointment with him. He never quite understood the incid