But he felt done up. It wore him out, the conflict in himself. Miriam pitied him now. But quite early, before nine o’clock, he rose to go.
“ You’re not going home, are you?” asked Mrs. Leivers anxiously.
“ Yes,” he replied. “I said I’d be early.” He was very awkward.
“ But this is early,” said Mrs. Leivers.
Miriam sat in the rocking-chair, and did not speak. He hesitated, expecting her to rise and go with him to the barn as usual for his bicycle. She remained as she was. He was at a loss.
“ Well—good-night, all!” he faltered.
She spoke her good-night along with all the others. But as he went past the window he looked in. She saw him pale, his brows knit slightly in a way that had become constant with him, his eyes dark with pain.
She rose and went to the doorway to wave g
