The tension became unbearable. I was expecting Galt to break forth in weird sounds. Instead, without a word, but with his teeth set and his hands clenched, he leaped into the middle of the divan with his feet and bounced up and down, like a man in a circus net, until I thought he should break the springs. That seemed to be what he was trying to do. But it was the very best quality of upholstery, as he ought to have known. Then he came down on his back full length and lay still, the women all staring at him. Vera had a sense of tragedy. It gave her access to his feelings. She walked over to the divan, knelt down, took his head in her arms and kissed him. This of all her memorable gestures was the finest. And it was spoiled. Or was it saved, perhaps? She might not have known how to end it. “Ouch!” said Galt. “A pin sticks me.” He got up. “Come on, Coxey, I want to show you something in the office upstairs.” That was subterfuge. He only wished to get away. We took the elevator and left them. He went directly to his bedroom, ripped off his collar and threw it on the floor, kicked off his shoes, and cast himself wearily on the bed. There he lay, on the costly lace counterpane, lined with pink silk, a forlorn and shabby figure. Presently Mrs. Galt timidly appeared at the door, followed by Vera and Natalie. They were a little out of breath, having walked up, not knowing how to manage the elevator. “It’s lovely ... perfectly splendid!” said Mrs. Galt, sitting on the bed and taking his hand. “I’m only sorry I haven’t words to tell you--” And she began to weep again. “Don’t,” said Galt. “How does Gram’ma like it?” “Hadn’t we better start home now?” said Mrs. Galt. “Home!” said Galt. “What’s this, I’d like to know? Not a bolt missing. She’s all fueled ... steam up ... ready to have her throttle pulled open. Go downstairs and hang up your hat. Telephone over for the servants.... How does Gram’ma like it?” “We haven’t anything here, you know,” Mrs. Galt protested gently. “The girls haven’t and neither have I.” “I’m here for good,” said Galt. “I want my breakfast in that dining room tomorrow morning.... How does Gram’ma like it?.... What’s the matter?” They couldn’t evade it any longer. Natalie told him. “Gram’ma says she won’t live here.” “Why not?” “She won’t say why not. Just says she won’t.” “All right, all right,” said Galt. “Being a woman is something you can’t help. Tell her we’ll give her a deed to the old house ... all for her own. We’ll play company when we come to see her.... That reminds me.” He brought a large folded document out of his pocket and handed it to Mrs. Galt. “What’s this?” “Deed to this house,” he said. “It’s from Coxey. Thank him. We kept it all in his name until today. Now it’s in your name.” CHAPTER XII A BROKEN SYMBOL i