And the evergreen there in
the middle of the room--it became to her as that tree of the knowledge
of good and evil which at Creation's morning had driven Woman from
Paradise.
She chose the other way and started toward the main hall of the house,
but paused in the doorway and looked back at the bed; what if he
should awake in the dark, alone, with no knowledge of where she was?
Would he call out to her--with what voice? Would he come to seek
her--with what emotions? (The tide of memories was setting in now--the
drift back to the old mooring.)
Hunt for her! How those words fell like iron strokes on the ear of
remembrance. They registered the beginning of the whole trouble. Up to
the last two years his first act upon reaching home had been to seek
her. It had even been her playfulness at times to slip from room to
room for the delight of proving how persistently he would prolong his
search. But one day some two years before this, when she had entered
his study about the usual hour of his return, bringing flowers for his
writing desk, she saw him sitting there, hat on, driving gloves on,
making some notes. The sight had struck the flowers from her hands;
she swiftly gathered them up, and going to her room, shut herself in;
she knew it was the beginning of the end.
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