Why couldn't Laura have waited a little?
Restlessly he walked the room.

Then he went into the hall, took his hat and a heavy stick which he used for his night rambles, and walked off through the neighborhood.

It was the first Saturday evening of Spring, and on those quiet downtown streets he met couples strolling by.

A tall thin lad and a buxom girl went into a cheap apartment building laughing gaily to themselves, and Roger thought of Laura.

A group of young Italians passed, humming "Trovatore," and it put him in mind of the time when he had ushered at the opera.