"
"The weather isn't a very bright subject just now."
"I didn't say it was; but it's a subject. I hope to goodness it doesn't
prevent Sylvester's keeping his appointment. He's late, as it is."
"Is he?" wearily. "I hadn't noticed."
"Of course you hadn't. You don't notice anything. It doesn't help
matters to pull a long face and go moping around wiping your eyes.
You've got to use philosophy in times like this. It's just as hard for
me as it is for you; and I try to make the best of it, don't I?"
She might have reminded him that his philosophy was a very recent
acquisition. When the news of their poverty first came he was the one
who raved and sobbed and refused to contemplate anything less direful
than slow starvation or quick suicide. She had soothed and comforted
then. Since the previous evening, when he had gone out, in spite of her
protestations, and left her alone, his manner had changed. He was still
nervous and irritable, but no longer threatened self-destruction, and
seemed, for some unexplained reason, more hopeful and less desperate.
Sylvester had 'phoned, saying that he would call at the apartment at
two, and since Stephen had received the message he had been in a state
of suppressed excitement, scarcely keeping still for five minutes at a
time.
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