“I don’t know what’s the matter with me, but I find it wearies me to climb on to a horse’s back.  I haven’t got back to normal conditions yet.”

“I was wondering where you were.”

“And how is Jove?” asked Mrs. Jack.

“He’s snoozing out on the veranda.  I take him everywhere now.”

Presently they moved into the living-room.  Warrington longed to sit beside Patty, but of a sudden he had grown diffident.  It amused him to come into the knowledge that all his address and worldliness would not stand him in good stead in the presence of Patty.  Words were no longer at his command; he was no longer at his ease.  He was afraid of Patty; and he was very, very lonely.  That empty house over the way was no longer home.  There were moments when he regretted his plunge into politics.  He was not free to pack his luggage and speed away to lands that urged his fancy.  He had given his word, and he was too much of a man to withdraw it.  He must remain here and fight two battles.

Mrs. Jack had taken the seat next to him, and was asking him about the progress of the play.  It was going on so indifferently that he was of half a mind to destroy it, which he did later.  His glance always came back to Patty.  She was bent over her basket-work.  She was calling him Mr. Warrington again.  Had he offended her in any manner?  The light from the lamp sparkled in her hair.  She was as fresh and beautiful as a July rose.  But Mrs. Jack was an artist.  She knew how to draw him out; and shortly he was talking animatedly.  It was now that Patty’s eyes began to rove.

John, his fingers meeting in an arch, one leg thrown restlessly across the other, thoughtfully eyed his wife and his friend. ...  It was a lie; there was nothing in all the world so honest as Warrington’s hand, so truthful as his wife’s eyes.  Cursed be the doubt that had wedged between these two he loved!

Time passes quickly or slowly, according to the state of mind.  To John the time was long; to Patty and Warrington it was too short; to Mrs. Jack it was neither long nor short, but suspended.

“Time for us to go, John.  You are not particular about a chair, are you?” Warrington asked.

“Not I. I prefer to stand up in the rear of the hall.  If I am bored I can easily escape.”

“Oh, the night will not be without some amusement.”

“Take good care of John,” whispered Mrs. Jack in Warrington’s ear; as the two men were about to depart.

“Trust me!” Warrington smiled.

Patty and John observed this brief intercourse.  The eyes of love are sharp.  Patty was not jealous, neither was John; but something had entered into their lives that gave to all trivial things a ponderous outline.

“Don’t let any reporters talk to John, Mr. Warrington,” requested the mother.

“I’ll surround him.”

“Shall we walk?” asked John.

“We can see better on foot.”