,
however, that he did not wish it. After making neat piles of the
scattered garments again, she raked out the fire, switched off the
lights, and went quietly into the bedroom.

His voice was a little testy to conceal his apprehensions.

"I must say you haven't hurried! You haven't been _making_ me
half a dozen new shirts, have you, old girl?"

She replied in a carefully-steadied tone: "There was a good deal to
do, and I wanted to finish it."

He pulled his bedclothes up higher around him. "Well, thanks awfully.
Afraid I rushed you. You won't be long now, will you? I want to get to
sleep, and I can't with someone moving about."

"I'll be quick. There's baby's bottle to do--it's long past time. She
hasn't waked, I suppose?"

"No; hasn't made a sound."

Marie lighted the spirit stove, and put the baby's food on while she
undressed. Osborn watched her apprehensively, not knowing that she
knew of what he did. But she wasn't going to make a fuss.

He was very thankful for that.

Every time she turned towards him he closed his eyes quickly, fearing
conversation which he need not have feared. She could not have talked
to him. When the food was ready and the bottle given, she was glad to
creep into her own bed, erect a similar barricade of sheet and
blankets, and sink into a sort of coma of grief and depression. In a
few minutes Osborn slept.

When Marie opened her eyes on the twilight of early winter morning it
seemed to her that she could scarcely have had time to close them, but
her bedside clock showed her, to her surprise, that she had been
sleeping all night. The greatness of the shock had passed, and she had
to concern herself imminently with all the bustle of Osborn's
departure. As he was not going to business to-day, not going out at
all, in fact, until he left gloriously, like a man of leisure, in a
taxicab at ten o'clock, he did no more than unclose a sleepy eye when
his wife sprang out of her bed and murmur:

"I say, old girl, you will do my packing, won't you?"

"Yes. I'm extra early, on purpose."

So in the grey dawn, Marie went about her business. She packed
suit-case and kit-bag and hat-box, and placed the labels ready for
Osborn to write; she dressed George and bade him help the
three-year-old to dress; she brushed the rooms and lighted the fires;
made the morning bottle for the baby; saw that boiling hot shaving
water was ready for Osborn; gave the children their breakfast; cooked
an unusuall