He rose and began to walk up and down the tiles of the hearth. One of his hands patted the front of his coat. His face was empty. He seemed wonderfully thin. Olive watched him in terror of a cry. Gurdy and his father drew off against the shelves of still books. Bernamer commenced rolling a cigarette. After a while Mark said, “It’s the way I was brought up, Olive.” “Oh, Mark, try to--to see her point of view. She loved him. She sees something we don’t--It’s--” “Sure. That’s so.--Oh, you’re right.” He walked on, aware of them watching, helpless. Things passed and turned in his head. He was being silly, old-fashioned. Ought to collect himself. Ought to do something for Gurdy who wouldn’t have her, now. Get the boy something to do. Get his mind off it. “Call the office, sonny. Tell them to close ‘Todgers Intrudes.’ Give the company two weeks’ pay. Have Hamlin write checks--Didn’t try to thrash this Rand, did you?” “We didn’t see him. He’d gone.” “That’s good. Call the office.” The boy went to the telephone, far off on its desk and began to talk evenly. Mark stumbled over to Bernamer and mumbled, “Keep him busy. Awful jolt for him, Eddie. Takes it fine.” “He ain’t in love with her, bud.” “Yes, he is.” “Set down, bud. Better drink--” “No.--Ain’t been any saint, myself. Girls are different.--Maybe he’s a nice fellow.--Took it nice about the play being closed.--I’m all right, Olive. Sort of a shock.” He walked on. Then he was too tired to walk and Bernamer made him sit in the chair by the hearth. He stared at the blue rug and it seemed to clear his head. He became immobile, watching a white thread. The world centred on this wriggle of white on the blue down. He lapsed into dullness, knowing that Gurdy stood close to him. He should think of things to say, consolations. The boy must be in tortures. He was dull, empty. Bernamer beckoned Olive. They went out of the library and the farmer shut the door without jarring the silver handle. Olive found herself dizzy. She said, “You have something to--” “Let’s get downstairs where I can smoke. You’re sick. This is as bad on you--” He helped her downstairs into the drawing room and was gone, came back with water in which she tasted brandy. The big man lit his cigarette and spoke in a drawl like Mark’s but heavier. “I don’t understand this business. The little fool says she’s been in love with this feller a long time--a couple of years. He ain’t made love to her ’til last night. Well?” “I don’t understand it any more than do you. I’m--horrified. I knew she admired his acting. He’s handsome. Very handsome.” The man nodded and his blue eyes were gentle on her. He drawled, “Why the hell didn’t he stay and face the music? The manager told him to get out. Mr. Russell says he just packed up and left.--I can’t make this out. Margot had Mr. Russell waked up because she hadn’t any money to come home with.” “I must talk to her.... Why did we leave her there?”