was not "finished" for Alice; and would she ever be?
Myra seemed to imagine that David and Alice could, if they would, ignore his three and a half years with Fidelia; she seemed to fancy that Fidelia had not changed him and her and that they had power to put themselves back where they were before Fidelia came to college on that snowy, winter night. But how different were the hours, when now he came to the house, from any hours before!
On a morning in March, Alice walked alone on the street to the west where stood the apartment in which David and she, four years ago, had planned to live.
It had only been building then for they were to move in when the place was new; now, newer apartments were beside it and in comparison "their" apartment looked old and long occupied.
She had not seen it since she had visited it with David on a day before Fidelia was known to either of them; and the sight of it revived in Alice the poignancy of his devotion to her then. To him, she had been without lack, until Fidelia came; but now, though Fidelia was gone and although she might remain away forever, Alice could never believe herself wholly sufficient to him.
Sometimes, when she was with him, she said to herself: "We're as we were in sophomore year." Or she said, "It is like our first year." But she knew that she considered the likeness of manners, only.
They shook hands upon meeting and upon parting; they occasionally sat side by side upon the lounge but as a rule they occupied separated chairs while they
