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 'Oh, I won't let it ruin my life, and rob me of my pride, and sense of honor, and destroy my will, and eat into my ideals of right and wrong. I must get over it. I must. A strong woman would get over it. I must be strong. You must help me, Roger. I mustn't see you. I don't know how I shall be able to live, but we mustn't see each other, Roger. We mustn't even hear from each other. That's the way to get over it, they say. That's the way to try, anyway.'

Roger, filled with despair because of Sheilah's despair, suffering because she suffered, hands tied, helpless to help in any other way, complied.

They didn't see each other, they didn't even hear from each other, for over three weeks. But after the first four or five days of this self-inflicted separation, Sheilah was guilty of haunting the public parking-space, where Roger left his car during office hours. It had suddenly occurred to Sheilah that pneumonia was often followed by a relapse. The gray car with the number she knew so well was proof that Roger was at his work. Moreover, the gray car itself had come to seem so much a part of him that the mere sight of it gratified a little her aching desire. Roger on his part was guilty also of passing Sheilah's house frequently in the evening for the comfort of the glimmer of her lights.

They had agreed to test the separation for two months, but near the end of the third week they