So far as light was concerned, Haworth minded it very little. The oil lamps and candles Mrs. Temple got hold of somewhere, answered well enough. But he did very much mind—though not so much at this time as later, when he tried to get back to his work again—losing the power for his machinery. He had only the haziest ideas as to creditors or electrical calamities or where his groceries were or were not coming from. Mrs. Temple was attending to it, and he let it rest at that. He could live in peace with his dreams and memories and imaginings—all of Edith and the exquisite pain of his longing for her. He wrote to her and had another precious letter in reply. She told of their having moved into a small house on Cherry Street, but said he must not come there. Perhaps sometime, but not then. If they could only meet somewhere, perhaps in town, before long, just for a few minutes. She loved him so! And if she could not see him soon it did not seem as if she could go on living. It was a month after this before they finally met. He waited for her on a quiet old street on the hill back of the State House. When she finally came, neither could speak. They found a bench hidden by shrubbery near the north end of the pond in the Public Garden. After a time, when they had whispered those first words of endearment after the long separation, and he could begin to realize things, he was greatly disturbed by her appearance, so worn and thin she was, with a hunted look in the eyes he loved beyond all measure. After much effort he discovered in a roundabout way, that for one thing she was half starved. It appeared that when Augustus earned anything he spent nearly the whole of it on himself or gambled it away. Very little came to her for household uses. Sometimes none. And now he wasn’t working at all. He’d lost his place at the freight yards. She wouldn’t mind so much about the food part of it, she said, but when he came home late at night and there wasn’t anything to eat, he was so violent! He seemed to think that she was to blame for it. The trouble was he had a revolver again and flourished it about. He always seemed to want to do that when he’d been drinking. And though she felt sure he wouldn’t fire it, she couldn’t help being frightened.