"You never told me anything--"
"You never asked," she interposed, curtly.
"Well, we'd got in a way of not talking much," said Roscoe. "It
looks to me now as if we'd pretty much lost the run of each other
the way a good many people do. I don't say it wasn't my fault.
I was up early and down to work all day, and I'd come home tired
at night, and want to go to bed soon as I'd got the paper read--
unless there was some good musical show in town. Well, you seemed
all right until here lately, the last month or so, I began to see
something was wrong. I couldn't help seeing it."
"Wrong?" she said. "What like?"
"You changed; you didn't look the same. You were all strung up and
excited and fidgety; you got to looking peakid and run down. Now
then, Lamhorn had been going with us a good while, but I noticed
that not long ago you got to picking on him about every little thing
he did; you got to quarreling with him when I was there and when I
wasn't. I could see you'd been quarreling whenever I came in and he
was here."
"Do you object to that?" asked Sibyl, breathing quickly.
"Yes--when it injures my wife's health!" he returned, with a quick
lift of his eyes to hers.
Pages:
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235