“Neither do I. I’m going down town,” he declared savagely. He threw down his napkin and went into the hall. Taking his hat from the stand, he left the house. Lucy heard the gate slam. She took Dimmie up to bed. It was Saturday night. John did not come in until past midnight. * * * * * Nannie did not get downstairs even for the usual late Sunday breakfast, and Katy took coffee, toast, eggs, and fruit to the bedroom. When the invalid finally appeared she was wearing an elaborate négligée. She clung to the walls, chairs, and tables, as she walked, and otherwise exhibited symptoms of extreme prostration. When she came into the dining room, John, who was seated by the table, reading, looked up with an air of constraint. Nannie greeted him in a faint voice. “Good morning.” “Good morning,” he answered. After a second’s hesitation, he put down his paper and rose and went toward her. “You look pale, Nannie,” he remarked in a low tone, pushing forward an armchair, but avoiding her glance as he did so. “I’m all right, John. It’s nothing,” she replied in the same weak voice. “Thank you so much,” she added, sinking into the chair. “Let me get you a little port wine,” he offered, standing beside her and watching her face as she leaned back with closed eyes. “Oh, no, John. Don’t bother. I’ll be better in a minute,” she protested, smiling bravely. Then, with a sigh, she reached into the bosom of her gown and took out an envelope. “I want you to mail this letter for me,” she continued, with an obvious effort. John took the letter from her and stared at the address uncomfortably. There was a pause. “I slept so badly last night,” said Nannie, moving her head from one side to the other as it rested against the chair. “Nannie!” John blurted out, unconsciously crushing the envelope in his hand as he spoke, “I didn’t mean anything last night. I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings at all. I was tired and worried, that’s all.” His face flushed and he hesitated, gazing at her expectantly. She did not answer at once, but when she opened her eyes she was smiling faintly. Reaching out her hand she laid it on his. He gave a relieved sigh. “I know, John, dear! Lucy is so abnormal,” she breathed, tenderly sympathetic, lowering her voice and glancing toward the kitchen as she spoke. “And you won’t talk any more about this confounded Professor Walsh?” John spread out the envelope and looked at it. “I must write to him and acknowledge the check,” Nannie protested, accepting the letter which he held out. “But you’ll tear this one up?” Nannie tore the paper in two and replaced the fragments in her dress. “I thought you didn’t want me here any longer, John,” she murmured, averting her face. “And that’s what you wrote him?” John was too full for further utterance. “I told him I was coming back soon,” she admitted. “Nannie!” John gasped reproachfully.