Usually, he seemed made of long
strips of thin steel, but under the inspiration of Rose's presence he
had become animated, brisk, interesting. No wonder she was being drawn
to him.

It was as if he had withheld from his wife a secret alchemy that had
kept him handsome and attractive, as compelling as when he had come in
search of herself so long ago. And now that the last vestige of her own
bloom was gone, he was laughing at her, inwardly, as a cunning person
does who plays a malicious trick on a simpler, more trusting, soul. Only
it had taken twenty years to spring the point of this one. Hatred welled
in her heart; a sad, weary hatred that knew no tears. She wished that
she might hurt him as he had hurt her. Yet, with her usual honesty, she
presently admitted how easy it would be for this malevolence to melt
away--a word, a look, a gesture from Martin and the heart in her
would flood with forgiveness; but the look did not come, the word was
unuttered.

He was squandering, she continued to observe, sufficient evidence of his
interest at the feet of this child who never would have missed it, while
she, herself, who could have lifted mountains from her breast with
one tenth of this appreciation, was left, as she always had been left,
without the love her being craved, the love of a mate, rising full and
strong to meet her own. It was a yearning that the most cherished of
children could never satisfy and as she watched Martin and Rose her
position seemed to her to be that of a hungry pauper, brought to the
table of a rich gourmand, there to look on helplessly while the other
toyed carelessly with the precious morsels of which she was in such
extreme need. And what rankled was that these thoughts were futile, that
too much water had run under the bridge, that it was her lot in Martin's
life merely to accept what was offered her. She knew that the marks of
her many hours of suppressed anguish, thousands of days of toil and long
series of disappointments were thick upon her. She realized, too, how
ironical it was that with all her work she should have grown to be so
ungainly although Martin retained the old magnetism of his gorgeous
physique. There was no doubt that if he chose, he could still hold a
woman's devotion. Yes, for him there was an open road from this gray
monotony, if he had the will and the courage to escape.

Suddenly, she found herself wondering what effect all this would have
on Bill. She stole a surrepti