a burden and deliberately let it lapse? I recalled with startled vividness the dandelion-wine, the quince-jelly, the plush and satin things in the darkened remoteness of the spare-bedroom. I even unsheathed the violet-hued collar-case from its rustling wrappings and gazed upon its pristine elegance. What else could it mean? The unnecessariness of a gift out of season, the finality of it seemed to me indicative of some conscience-stir, some wish to appease or conciliate the situation.
Years have passed since then but no word has ever come to me of the vanished Mrs. Willkit. The disquieting conviction grows upon me that her disappearance was intentional, a dampening commentary upon the too-muchness of modern intercourse.
I keep the collar-case in its original wrappings. It is suggestive of mystery, warning, rebuke.
