It has an ugly look. Any man who has been through
a war is something of a fatalist."
They were less circumspect than of old and were walking out the old
Mission Road. In such moods it was impossible for him to idle before
a fire and read aloud. Madeleine had told her husband she would like
to join Masters in his walks occasionally, and he had replied
heartily: "Do you good. He'll lead you some pretty tramps! I can't
keep up with him. You don't walk half enough. Neither do these other
women, although my income would be cut in half if they did."
It was a cool bracing day without dust or wind and Madeleine had
started out in high spirits, induced in part by a new and vastly
becoming walking suit of forest green poplin and a hat of the same
shade rolled up on one side and trimmed with a drooping grey feather.
Her gloves and shoes were of grey suede, there was soft lace about
her white throat and a coquettish little veil that covered only her
eyes.
She always knew what to say when Masters was in one of his black
moods, and today she reminded him of the various biographies of great
men they had read together. Had not all of them suffered every
disappointment and discouragement in the beginning of their careers?
Overcome innumerable obstacles? Many had been called upon to endure
grinding poverty as well until they forced recognition from the
world, and he at least was spared that.
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