There were the same movements, familiar to her
for years. She would not open the door, she could not leave it, she
could not stand, no support was near, and she sank to the floor and
sat there, leaning her brow against the lintel.
On the other side the quiet preparations went on.
She heard him take off his coat and vest and hang them on the back of
a chair. The buttons made a little scraping sound against the wood.
Then he went to his dresser and took off his collar and tie, and he
opened a drawer and laid out a night-shirt. She heard the creaking of
a chair under him as he threw one foot and then the other up across
his knee and took off his shoes and socks. Then there reached her the
soft movements of his bare feet on the carpet (despite her agony the
old impulse started in her to caution him about his slippers). Then
followed the brushing of his teeth and the deliberate bathing of his
hands. Then was audible the puff of breath with which he blew out his
lamp after he had turned it low; and then,--on the other side of the
door,--just above her ear his knock sounded.
The same knock waited for and responded to throughout the years; so
often with his little variations of playfulness.
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