great work, all her strong, womanly encouragement for him to accomplish his destiny spoke to him, and called to him in that long, earnest look of her dull-blue eyes.  Now she was no longer weak; now she could face the dreary consequences that, for her, must follow the rousing of his dormant energy; now was no longer the time for indirect appeal; the screen was down between them.  More eloquent than any spoken words was the calm, steady gaze in which she held his own.

There was a long silence while husband and wife stood looking deep into each other’s eyes.  And then, as a certain slow kindling took place in his look, Lloyd saw that at last Bennett understood.

After that the conference broke up rapidly.  Campbell, as the head and spokesman of the committee, noted the long, significant glance that had passed between Bennett and Lloyd, and, perhaps, vaguely divined that he had touched upon a matter of a particularly delicate and intimate nature.  Something was in the air, something was passing between husband and wife in which the outside world had no concern—­something not meant for him to see.  He brought the interview to an end as quickly as possible.  He begged of Bennett to consider this talk as a mere preliminary—­a breaking of the ground.  He would give Bennett time to think it over.  Speaking for himself and the others, he was deeply impressed with that generous offer to meet the unexpected deficiency, but it had been made upon the spur of the moment.  No doubt Mr. Bennett and his wife would wish to talk it over between themselves, to consider the whole matter.  The committee temporarily had its headquarters in his (Campbell’s) offices.  He left Bennett the address.  He would await his decision and answer there.

When the conference ended Bennett accompanied the members of the committee downstairs and to the front door of the house.  The three had, with thanks and excuses, declined all invitations to dine at Medford with Bennett and his wife.  They could conveniently catch the next train back to the City; Campbell and Tremlidge were in a hurry to return to their respective businesses.

The front gate closed.  Bennett was left alone.  He shut the front door of the house, and for an instant stood leaning against it, his small eyes twinkling under his frown, his glance straying aimlessly about amid the familiar objects of the hallway and adjoining rooms.  He was thoughtful, perturbed, tugging slowly at the ends of his mustache.  Slowly he ascended the stairs, gaining the landing on the second floor and going on toward the half-open door of the “workroom” he had just quitted.  Lloyd was uppermost in his mind.  He wanted her, his wife, and that at once.  He was conscious that a great thing had suddenly transpired; that all the calm and infinitely happy life of the last year was ruthlessly broken up; but in his mind there was nothing more definite, nothing stronger than the thought of his wife and the desire for her companionship and advice.