58
DON-A-DREAMS
course. It was she who packed his trunk—sitting in her chair and wrapping all his things, needlessly, in tissue paper as white as her own hands—with the eyes of a mother who is sending her boy into those spiritual wars of the world which have made her husband a stranger to her. And it was she, unseen, who still waved good-bye to him from the window when he turned, with Conroy, at the street corner, and saw only the old house standing there, strangely dead and mute, a thing of the past already, all the glow of young expectation gone from it into the unknown scenes to which he was hastening.
