The morning was full of sunlight and hope. Edna could see before her no
denial--only the promise of excessive joy. She lay in bed awake, with
bright eyes full of speculation. "He loves you, poor fool." If she could
but get that conviction firmly fixed in her mind, what mattered about
the rest? She felt she had been childish and unwise the night before in
giving herself over to despondency. She recapitulated the motives which
no doubt explained Robert's reserve. They were not insurmountable; they
would not hold if he really loved her; they could not hold against her
own passion, which he must come to realize in time. She pictured him
going to his business that morning. She even saw how he was dressed;
how he walked down one street, and turned the corner of another; saw him
bending over his desk, talking to people who entered the office, going
to his lunch, and perhaps watching for her on the street. He would come
to her in the afternoon or evening, sit and roll his cigarette, talk a
little, and go away as he had done the night before. But how delicious
it would be to have him there with her! She would have no regrets, nor
seek to penetrate his reserve if he still chose to wear it.
Edna ate her breakfast only half dressed. The maid brought her a
delicious printed scrawl from Raoul, expressing his love, asking her to
send him some bonbons, and telling her they had found that morning ten
tiny white pigs all lying in a row beside Lidie's big white pig.
A letter also came from her husband, saying he hoped to be back early
in March, and then they would get ready for that journey abroad which
he had promised her so long, which he felt now fully able to afford;
he felt able to travel as people should, without any thought of small
economies--thanks to his recent speculations in Wall Street.
Much to her surprise she received a note from Arobin, written at
midnight from the club. It was to say good morning to her, to hope she
had slept well, to assure her of his devotion, which he trusted she in
some faintest manner returned.
All these letters were pleasing to her. She answered the children in a
cheerful frame of mind, promising them bonbons, and congratulating them
upon their happy find of the little pigs.
She answered her husband with friendly evasiveness,--not with any fixed
design to mislead him, only because all sense of reality had gone out
of her life; she had abandoned herself to Fate, and awaited the
consequences with indifference.