Two or three streets on, the pair separated, she to her work, he to his.
For him the walk had been a nothing in particular--he would a little have
preferred taking it alone. For her it had been--despite the low level of
expressiveness reached on either side--a privilege which had been curtailed
much too soon.
Meanwhile, back in the house, Hortense was detailing the events of the
previous evening to Joe Foster; the general access of activity on the
morning after had made it desirable that she help with his breakfast.
She went at it with a will.
"Why," she said, as Foster sat at his coffee, boiled egg and toast, "he
keeled over like a baby."
"Hum!" said Foster darkly. It was as if a shaping ideal had dissipated. Or
as if a trace of weakness in one seemingly so young and strong was not
altogether unacceptable as a source of consolation.
However, Cope, at half past four that afternoon, was on the faculty tennis-
courts, with a racquet in his hand. But one set was enough. "I seem to be a
day ahead of my schedule," he said, pulling out and strolling along
homeward.
14
_COPE MAKES AN EVASION_
Two or three days later, Randolph put a book of essays in his pocket and
went round to spend an hour with Joseph Foster.
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