Gradually there seemed to settle on him a languor, which expressed itself in a kind of patience which Arthur found infinitely pathetic. He went to his work before daylight, came home weary, and often wet through, ate his coarsely cooked meal in silence, but made no complaint. He had ceased to take interest in the outer world. He received the news of Helen's marriage without remark, and displayed no curiosity. Once only he was roused to any interest in her. Bundy, in one of his numerous journeys to Paris, insisted on taking Arthur with him, and Arthur told his father that he would no doubt see Helen. "Paris, did you say? Ah! I was there once. It was there they took me. So she's living in Paris, is she?" He left the room and went upstairs. Arthur could hear him moving to and fro for a long time. When he came down, he held a little parcel in his hand. "I suppose my creditors ought to have had this," he said. "Only they didn't get it." "What is it, father?" He slowly undid the parcel, and put upon the table a small gold watch. "It didn't rightly belong to the creditors, either," he said in a low voice. "It was hers." "Whose, father?" "Your mother's. The first thing I gave her after we'd begun to get on a bit. I can mind how pleased she was. Lord! it seems like yesterday. And then her face kind of clouded over, and she said, 'But can you afford it?' That was just like your mother--always afraid I couldn't afford things." He became silent, and stood with wide intent eyes, as if he saw that far distant past limned upon the air. He had never spoken of his dead wife before. The mention of her name invoked God knows what sweet and painful memories. "Thought I couldn't afford it," he repeated softly. "Put it away in a drawer, didn't like to wear it, thought it too good for her. Some women are like that--not many, though. I guess Helen isn't like that...." And then, with a sudden lifting of the head, as though he emerged from a sea of dreams, "Well, I want you to give the watch to Helen. I haven't given her a wedding-present. That's about all I have to give. I hope she'll value it." In due course Arthur gave the watch to Helen. She glanced at it with an air of insolent depreciation. "It isn't likely I'm going to wear an old thing like that!" was her sole remark. She also put it in a drawer, where it was forgotten. When she left the Hotel Continental, a year later, it was lost. She never missed it. It was on his return from this journey to Paris that Arthur noticed for the first time a distinct physical change in his father. The big frame remained, but the flesh was shrunken. "Aren't you well, father?" he asked. "Oh yes, I'm well--a bit thinner, that's all. I'd begun to run to fat, you know, sitting about in offices. There's nothing like hard work to take your flesh down."