Ernestine sat for a little time listening to them, grateful for the
relaxation of the tension, more grateful still for this touch of Karl's
old-time self. But following upon that the very consciousness that they
saw the real Karl so seldom now brought added pain. What would the future
hold? What could it hold? Must he not go farther and farther from this
real self as he adjusted himself more and more fully to the new order of
things?
Watching him then, as he talked and listened, she could appreciate anew
what Karl's eyes had meant to his personality. It almost broke her heart
to see him lean forward and look in that half-eager, half-fretted way
toward the man who was speaking, as though his blindness were a barrier
between their minds, a barrier he instinctively tried to beat down.
She wanted to get away, and she felt they would get along better now
without her. So she left them, laughingly, to their cigars and their
discussion.
She wandered about the house listlessly, mechanically doing a few things
here and there.
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