He espied his cap in a corner, and went
and picked it up. He put it on his head, and one of the girls burst into
a shrill, hysteric laugh at the sight he presented. He, however, took no
heed, but went straight to where his overcoat hung on a peg. The girls
moved away from contact with him as if he had been an electric wire. He
put on his coat and buttoned it down. Then he rolled his tunic-rags into
a bundle, and stood before the locked door, dumbly.
'Open the door, somebody,' said Laura.
'Annie's got the key,' said one.
Annie silently offered the key to the girls. Nora unlocked the door.
'Tit for tat, old man,' she said. 'Show yourself a man, and don't bear a
grudge.'
But without a word or sign he had opened the door and gone, his face
closed, his head dropped.
'That'll learn him,' said Laura.
'Coddy!' said Nora.
'Shut up, for God's sake!' cried Annie fiercely, as if in torture.
'Well, I'm about ready to go, Polly. Look sharp!' said Muriel.
The girls were all anxious to be off. They were tidying themselves
hurriedly, with mute, stupefied faces.
_The Blind Man_
Isabel Pervin was listening for two sounds--for the sound of wheels on
the drive outside and for the noise of her husband's footsteps in the
hall. Her dearest and oldest friend, a man who seemed almost
indispensable to her living, would drive up in the rainy dusk of the
closing November day.
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