e must
meet a man at his club for dinner that evening. Mechanically she
answered, dully heard his voice warm to a sweetness that should have
comforted her.

"You know I wouldn't leave you unless it were important, dearest. I
can't explain now, but I may have great news for you when I come home."

She hung up the receiver thoughtfully, and turned to an apartment
which seemed suddenly dreary and empty. She had no purpose in her day.
The twilight hour loomed in prospect an endless, dusky loneliness.
For a moment she thought of ringing him up and proposing to meet him
downtown for lunch; then restrained the impulse. Was she to turn
into a nagging wife! She longed now for some friend with whom she
could spend the day; but she could think of none. Since her marriage
with Oliver she had not encouraged intimacies. On his account she
had estranged the few women to whom she might now have turned.
Oliver had never understood friendships among women.

The day dragged by. For the first time in months she found herself
wishing that she was going out that evening. She thought almost
guiltily of David Cannon and Frances Maury, imagining herself in
Frances's place. She went to the piano, tried to sing, and realized
with dismay that she was sadly out of practice. After all, what did
it matter? she decided moodily. Oliver rarely asked her for music.

She took up a novel and dozed over it.

At eleven o'clock Oliver came home. She knew by the way he opened
the front door that the news was good. She ran to meet him; her
dullness vanished.

He took her by the hand and led her into the softly lit room which
seemed suddenly warm again with his presence. Then he whirled her,
facing him. Her smile was a happy reflection of his own brightness.

"You'll never guess what's happened," he began.

"Tell me quickly!" she begged.

He waited a moment, with an eye to dramatic effect.

"Well, then," he said proudly, "I've been appointed on a special
committee of reconstruction in France. Malcolm Wild--you've heard me
speak of him--came down from Washington to-day to propose it to me.
There are six of us on the committee, and I'm the youngest."

"Oliver!" She put into the exclamation something of what he expected,
for he seemed satisfied. He lifted his head with a young, triumphant
gesture. "It is my chance to do a great and useful work," he said.
"I needn't tell you what it means. I never hoped, _I_ never dreamed
of such an honour."

"I'm so