After that he watched Strong every minute for signs of special devotion, and before the day was over he had satisfied himself that these two cared deeply for each other.  The way Strong’s eyes followed her every movement, the way he anticipated her wants, understood her before she spoke—­they were all damning evidences of the situation.  That Bambi showed herself grateful, as vividly as she did everything else, entirely escaped Jarvis.  She loved him, that was the truth, and he alone stood between her and happiness.

The two days dragged by, in torment, for him.  It seemed as if they would never be over, so that he might face the truth by himself, with Strong out of the picture, and decide what must be done.  Bambi noticed his strained politeness to their guest, but set it down to the same inconsistency he had shown before, of being jealous of what he did not especially value himself.

Monday, after Strong’s departure, she began to realize that there was a change in him.  He was taciturn and moody.  The work went badly.  He disagreed with her at every point, and when she suggested that they stop an hour earlier than usual, he went off by himself, without asking her to go.  She began to wonder whether his dislike of Strong was really serious and something to be taken cognizance of.

Jarvis strode off into the country in a state of nerves unknown before.  A sleepless night and the irritation of the day’s work had played their havoc with him.  He went over the thing again and again.  Bambi and Strong loved each other—­he stood in the way.  Why should he not take himself out of the situation at once?  “She married me for a whim; she will unmarry me the same way,” he reiterated to himself.  “Why did she do it, in the first place, unless she cared something for me?  But she told me she had no sentiment for me,” he replied to his other self.  “It was ambition that made her do it.  She thought I would be famous.  I’ve disappointed her, and she’s through with me.”  He went over every incident of their reunion—­his thrill at her welcome.  “She didn’t really care; it was just her way,” he assured himself.

For hours he plunged through the woods, pursued by his bitter thoughts.  When he turned back at last, into the garden, he knew that a precious, new-born thing, which he had brought back with him after his exile, was laid away, never to be allowed to come into full flower and maturity.

His decision was made.  He temporized on one point.  He would stay on until the play was produced, so that if it succeeded, as he was determined it should, Bambi would have that much satisfaction from her matrimonial experiment.  Then he would let her divorce him, and he would take himself out of her life.

She was in the library when he went in.  She caught sight of his face, and exclaimed: 

“Jarvis, my dear, how tired you look!”

He started to go, but she detained him.

“Is anything the matter, Jarvis?”