When Felix had come back to Sheilah at the end of the war, he had been fired with determination to fill the big rôle waiting for him—so much bigger, now that Sheilah was in actual need of a man and provider. He had returned to his place in the bank full of hope and confidence. Sheilah, too, had been full of hope and confidence then. They had taken a small half-house near the golf club. Not expensive, because so far out from the center of the city.
How hard Felix had tried at first to pull himself out of his own personality. He had read every article Sheilah marked for him, so as to appear informed among her friends. Tried to learn bridge. Tried to learn golf. For in those early years in Wallbridge they had, as a matter of course, belonged to the group of young married people who had always been Sheilah's friends. Successful confident young married people. Rather ruthless since the war. Amazingly able and alert. Difficult competitors.
It had been Sheilah's suggestion that they move away from Wallbridge. Felix always dreaded any change, but he complied, for Sheilah explained to him that there was a future for him in the big prosperous manufacturing concern in Boston, if he tried hard and worked evenings. And he had tried hard! He had worked evenings! They both had worked evenings.
