And she smiled rather
forlornly at her reflection in the glass.
"Well, I've got the present, anyhow," she considered. "I'm not
going either to wallow in the past or peer into the future. I'm
going to work."
The prospect cheered her. After all, work was the great solution.
It was the great healer, too. That was why men bore their griefs
better than women. They could work.
She took a final glance around her stripped and cheerless rooms.
How really little things mattered! All her life she had been
burdened with things. Now at last she was free of them.
The shabby room on Perry Street called her. Work called, beckoned
to her with calloused, useful hands. She closed and locked the
door and went quietly down the stairs.
CHAPTER XL
One day late in May, Clayton, walking up-town in lieu of the golf
he had been forced to abandon, met Doctor Haverford on the street,
and found his way barred by that rather worried-looking gentleman.
"I was just going to see you, Clayton," he said.
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