"I do. Always." Simple words, but Catherine heard them with faint wonder. Bill was never personal. His profile, with its long nose and lean cheeks, like a horse, was reassuring. "Well, then. Did you ever watch a treadmill? Round and round, all your effort taking you nowhere but around? That's where I've been. That's what I've done. The same circle, day after day. And now I'm out of it, on a long, straight road. Going somewhere!" "I hope it's straight." They had reached the apartment entrance, and Bill shook his head at Catherine's suggestion that he come in. "No road is really straight. But as long as it goes somewhere!" Bill looked at her; Catherine thought he started to speak, and then refused the words. "Spencer is longing for your next call," she said. "I'll drop in some evening. Henry's been busy." "Don't wait for her, then. Just come." At the door Miss Kelly met Catherine. "Letty hasn't seemed quite well," she said. "I put her to bed." "What's wrong?" Catherine stared at Miss Kelly's bland, pink face. "She isn't really sick?" "It's hard to tell, with a child." Miss Kelly followed Catherine down the hall. "It may be just indigestion." Letty, her small face flushed and scowling, wrinkled her eyes at her mother. "Don't want to go to bed. Want to see my Muvver." "Here I am, Letty." Catherine touched her cheek, felt for her wrist. "She has scarcely any temperature," announced Miss Kelly. "Just a degree. But I thought----" "Surely, she's better in bed. Did she have any supper?" "Broth." "Don't wait, Miss Kelly. I know you wish to go." "Well, since you are here." Catherine removed her coat and hat. The roses dropped to the floor. "Pretty!" Letty reached for them. "I'll put them in water." Catherine came back with a vase. "Do you feel sick anywhere, chick?" "Letty not sick. Get up." Catherine caught the wiggling child, and pulled the blanket into place. "You lie still, and mother'll be back presently. I must see to dinner for Daddy." She hurried into the kitchen. Spencer and Marian were under the dining room table, playing menagerie, and unable to answer her except in fierce growls. Charles hadn't come in. Probably Letty wasn't really sick. She had little flurries of indisposition; perhaps she had eaten something. Charles came in, with a jovial bang of the door, and a shout, "Ship ahoy! Who's at the helm?" "Don't tell him, Muvver." Marian's head butted the tablecloth aside. "Sh!" "'Lo, Cath!" He swung her up to tiptoe in his exuberant hug. "Where are the kids?" "Grrrr!" and "Woof!" The table cloth waggled. "Ah, wild animals under foot!" Charles gave an elaborate imitation of a big game hunter, creeping toward the table, sighting along his thumbs. "Biff, bang!" He reached under, seized a leg, and drew out Marian, giggling and rolling. "Bagged one! Bang, bang! Got the panther!" He had Spencer by the collar. "Teddy, the great hunter!" He straddled them, his arms folded, while they shrieked in delight.