Page:Middle Aged Love Stories (IA middleagedlove00bacorich).djvu/182

 own sorrow, but not his; she could stay—she could not let him. Waves of pain broke against her resolution, tugging remonstrance, momentary weakness, passionate prayers to make this happiness possible for both of them, but beneath it all was the certainty: it was done.

She met him at breakfast with a nervous flush that hid the pallor of the night, with a voice whose cheerfulness amazed her, with an excitement she had never thought to feel again. He was gaunt and hollow-eyed, and yielded readily to her persuasions to stay at home, rousing himself to assure her that he would allow this small indulgence only because she was going so soon.

"It is but four—five days now, and you are gone, Mlle. Sabine, and zen I shall not want ze vacation, hein? So I stay. I have but one class only, and I sink I do not teach it well to-day," he said, with elaborate cheerfulness. She