WHEN PIPPA PASSED
"At any rate the book is ready, which is the principal thing, I suppose," she said.
He found himself illogically wishing she had resented it more. "It was a mistake," he thought, "she has no feeling for him."
Through the weeks that followed they avoided mentioning his name, and each, trusting that the other would forget, thought of him in puzzled silence.
When he came to them next, toward the end of May, it seemed for a moment, as he flung himself into a chair and stared moodily at the empty fire-place, that his old self had returned. Thin and shabby, with dark rings under his eyes, he looked like the boy Delafield had warmed and fed that cold March night. But his words undeceived them.
"I shall shoot myself if this doesn't stop," he said bitterly. Anne started.
"Here, here, West, none of that," the older man corrected, sharply. "That's no thing to say—what is the matter?"
"It's Pippa," he returned, simply. "She won't marry me. I'll kill myself if she don't. I can't eat,
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