Even
Ethel the housemaid ventured to say how very glad she felt when he
shaved again.
The month of May was hot and enervating; the month of June was wet and
depressing. Day after day the rain beat threateningly against the
windows, and night after night it dripped with a melancholy patter
from the eaves. On three successive Sundays Dale considered the rain
an adequate excuse for not going to chapel. He and Norah had a very
short informal service within sound and within smell of the roast beef
that was being cooked close by in the kitchen, and afterward he
meditatively read the Bible to himself while Norah laid the cloth for
dinner.
He had said that he did not want to fold his hands and sit quiet for
the remainder of his existence; but that was precisely what he desired
to do for the moment. He allowed Norah to relieve him of more and more
of his office duties, and he idly watched her as she stood bending her
neck over the tall desk or sat stooping her back and squaring her
elbows at the writing-table. And still sitting himself, he would
maintain long desultory conversations with her about nothing in
particular when, having completed the tasks that he had entrusted to
her, she moved here and there about the office tidying up for the
night.
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