sill of Lily's parlor, and tried to remember a
verse; something about--about--what was it?

"If of thy store there be
But left two loaves,
Sell one, and with the dole
Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul."

He laughed; _Lily_, feeding her "soul"! "Well, she has more 'soul,' with
her flower pots and her good cooking, than some women who wouldn't touch
her with a ten-foot pole! Still, _I'm_ done with her!" he thought. But
he had no purpose of "uplift"; the desire to reform Lily had evaporated.
"Queer; I don't care a hoot," he told himself, watching with lazy eyes
the smoke from his pipe drift blue between himself and the valley
drowsing in the heat. "I'd like to see the little thing do well for
herself--but really I don't give a damn." His moral listlessness, in
view of the acuteness of that first remorse, and especially of that
moment among the stars, when he had stretched out hands passionately
eager for the agonizing sacrament of confession, faintly surprised him.
How could he have been so wrought up about it? He looked off over the
valley--saw the steely sickle of the river; saw a cloud shadow touch the
shoulder of a mountain and move down across the gracious bosom of its
forests. Below him, chestnuts twinkled and shimmered in the sun, and
there were dusky stretches of hemlocks, then open pastures, vividly
green from the August rains.... "It ought to be set to music," he
thought; the violins would give the flicker of the leaves--"and the
harps would outline the river. Eleanor's voice is lovely ... she looks
fifty. How," he pondered, interested in the mechanics of it, "did she
ever get me into that wagon?" Then, again, he was sorry for her, and
said, "Poor girl!" Then he was sorry for himself. He knew that he was
tired to death of Eleanor--tired of her moods and her lovemaking. He was
not angry with her; he did not hate her;--he had injured her too much to
hate her; he was simply unutterably tired of her--what he did hate, was
this business of lugging a secret around! "I feel," he said to himself,
"like a dog that's killed a hen, and had the carcass tied around his
neck." His face twitched with disgust at his own simile. But as for
Eleanor, he had been contemptibly mean to her, and, "By God!" he
said to himself, "at least I'll play the game. I'll treat her as well as
I can. Other fools have married jealous women, and put up with them.
But, good Lord!" he thought, with honest perplexity, "can't the women
_see_ how the