"Sperrigus?"
"I— Excuse me?"
"I say-ed, sperrigus?"
"Oh! Oh no, thank you"
Driving in pouring rain through the puddles of Poor Farm Road, silver wings sprang out from the taxi, yet Joe wanted to get out and run. But when he reached the house it was empty.
He hurried through it, calling her. It was dark with the rain outside, empty and still, but not at peace. Did the house seem as lonely as this to her when he was out of it?
His whole being waited for her, as he had waited for his mother when he was a child. He needed Evelyn for safety. He was lost without her.
She came at last, with Hope. And he was safe again; the world was real, instead of a shifting mist that covered emptiness. The house no longer waited and listened. He wanted to cry from relief as he held her; he felt weak and young and at peace.
Then he saw that her eyes were red.
"Evelyn, what's the matter?"
"Nothing," she said in a muted voice. "The roses are lovely, Joe." And she let them fall back into their box.
"Something's wrong. You're sick."
"No, I'm all right."
At supper she cut up her food, lifted it to her mouth, put it back on her plate untouched. Sometimes she
