his arrangements were made to go to the hospital that night, and to be
operated upon the next day. She reproached him for having made his
decision without consulting her, but she loved him for his proud
independence.

Somehow this second day under the shadow of death was less terrible than
the first. Vincent stayed up-town, and was very natural and very busy. He
saw a few people,--men who owed him money, his lawyer, his partner,--but
most of the time he and Adelaide sat together in his study, as they had
sat on many other holidays. He insisted on going alone to the hospital,
although she was to be in the building during the operation.

Mathilde had been told, and inexperienced in disaster, she had felt
convinced that the outcome couldn't be fatal, yet despite her conviction
that people did not really die, she was aware of a shyness and
awkwardness in the tragic situation.

Mr. Lanley had been told, and his attitude was just the opposite. To
him it seemed absolutely certain that Farron would die,--every one
did,--but he had for some time been aware of a growing hardness on his
part toward the death of other people, as if he were thus preparing
himself for his own.

"Poor Vincent!" he said to himself. "Hard luck at his age, when an old
man like me is left." But this was not quite honest. In his heart he
felt there was nothing unnatural in Vincent's being taken or in his
being left.

As usual in a crisis, Adelaide's behavior was perfect. She contrived to
make her husband feel every instant the depth, the strength, the passion