For a little while apparently everything went on the same. Roger dropped in at the apartment as casually as before and left as casually, frequently not seeing Sheilah alone, frequently not seeing her at all, purposely coming sometimes when she was out, to talk to Felix or the children, not to deceive them, but because they were part of her whom he so adored. When Roger and Sheilah were together, however, every moment was vital, every glance a caress, every touch an embrace. At first they did not acknowledge in words that there existed anything serious between them, but they saw the outline of it growing clearer and more palpable each time they met, like a ghost slowly coming alive,—a ghost which Roger well knew was unwelcome to Sheilah, but which she could not resist.
How he loved her for not being able to resist it, deploring the while that it should cause her unhappiness—that anything connected with him should cause her unhappiness. He realized that a clandestine relationship, even as restrained as he intended to keep theirs, must entail suffering for a sensitive woman, and for a while he considered disappearing out of her life altogether, and save her from that suffering. But that would be a cruel thing to do. She depended upon him already, and looked to him for reassurance and protection, not deser-
