“She hasn’t been to Reno yet,” she said. “I don’t think she means to go. And she’s nothing, Pat. Just nothing. Tony met her in a bar somewhere in New York. Not that she’s much of a drinker. Money is her weakness. Money and men. I think I’ll call Dwight,” she went on. “I wonder—would you meet Tony at the station and tell him, Pat? He took the train today. He’s fond of you. He might take it better that way.”

I found that I was trembling, and Maud must have noticed it, for she came over and put a hand on my arm. “When I think of the plans I had—” she said.

I managed to control my voice. “Is he still in love with her, Maud?”

“I don’t think he ever was.”

She told me a little about Bessie then. Not much. She had been a New York girl, one of that band of young women who hangs on the fringes of society. She had gone to a good school, however, and somehow she had managed to get into the Junior League. Her people were quiet and respectable enough, but Maud suspected that Tony had financed the wedding, from white orchids and St. Bartholomew’s to reception at Sherry’s.

“I saw some of the bills later,” she said wearily.

I drove down to meet the train at half past six that night. Already the days were shorter, and it was almost dusk when it drew in. I saw Tony get out, carrying the evening papers and nodding the casual good nights with which one commuter leaves another. My heart was thudding as he came toward the car and saw me.

“What is it? An anniversary or something?” he inquired, smiling.

“An anniversary?”

“Your meeting me,” he explained. “Or have my personal attractions at last melted that hard heart of yours?”

“I was doing some errands. Maud asked me to meet you.”

He got in beside me, leaving me to drive. My old car creaked under his weight, and he had trouble disposing of his long legs.

“So that’s it,” he said. “I might have known you’d never think of it yourself.”

We were both silent as we left the village and began to climb the hill. I remember that there was already a feeling of fall in the air, although it was only very early September. My hands were trembling on the wheel and halfway up the hill, where there was a level spot, I pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped there. He seemed surprised.

“Out of gas?”

“No, I’m a little nervous. Tony, I have something to tell you.”

He turned in the seat and faced me.

“Mother’s not sick again?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s about you. Maud thought it would be better if I told you before you got home. I don’t know how, really. It’s not my affair.”

“You’re not leaving us, are you?”

I shook my head, and I thought he looked relieved. Then I felt his eyes on me, and all at once he stiffened and drew a long breath.