And suddenly he didn't care whether Nevin Baldwin knew or not, whether anybody knew. Sheilah had spoken his name! She had asked how he was. It was as if she had sent him a message. And she was coming! Here! Soon! Somehow, somewhere, he would see her! And the last time he had seen her he had kissed her! There had been no meeting since to dull that last time of its sharpness and its edge. No letter. No word of any kind. He was glad now. It was as if the last time he had seen Sheilah had been at the top of a height they had reached together. There had been no slow descent. The dark that had wrapped them round, as they had stood there together, had suddenly swallowed Sheilah up and she had disappeared. But he had not stirred. All these months and months he had not stirred! Sheilah would find him waiting just where she had left him on the same high peak.
Once inside his room that night, Felix took off his overcoat and overshoes and put them carefully away in the closet. Then sat down at his study-table, opened its single drawer, and took out from the back corner a long white envelope, and emptied its con tents into the bright circle of light before him.
It contained all the clippings which referred to Sheilah and her coming-out, which he had cut from
