The third conclusion might have been rather sentimental, a
title out of a moving picture--something about Even in the Wastes of the
Giant City the Weary Heart Will Always Turn To--Just Home.
A doll on a small table began to buzz mysteriously in its internals. The
man released the woman's hand--both looking deeply annoyed.
"I thought we had a private number here," said the man, the tiredness
coming back into his face like scribbles on parchment.
She crossed to the telephone with a charming furtiveness--you could see
she was playing they had just been found behind the piano together in a
game of hide-and-seek. The doll was disembowelled of its telephone.
"No--No--Oh very well--"
"What was it?"
She smiled.
"Is this the Eclair Picture Palace?" she mimicked. [Illustration: THE
TIREDNESS THAT HAD BEEN IN THE MAN'S FACE BEGAN TO LEAVE IT] Both seemed
almost childishly relieved. So in spite of his successful-business-man
mouth, he wasn't the kind that is less a husband than a telephone-
receiver, especially at home. Still, she would have made a difference even
to telephone-receivers, that could be felt even without the usual
complement of senses.
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