joy would be a little like that of a poet's at recognition . . . Really the blue dress was rather nice. And now that it was dark enough to draw the shades, and flood the room with artificial light she wasn't so bad after all.
Seven o'clock already! She must hurry. The Outsiders were all dining together to-night, in the grill. It was Judith's birthday. There were to be cocktails in Roger's room at seven-fifteen. Oh, ought she to be having so good a time? The mother of four children? And one of them dead? Ought she to be so happy away from her children? Ought she to be all dressed up in pretty clothes going to a party, when Felix, stoop-shouldered and alone, was seated in his shirt-sleeves at the work-bench in the dining-room, making another 'shay durve?'
