He did not know then that the telephone was the kind that must be rung by the user; or if he had been told that he had forgotten.

So he waited, his ears strained to catch the heavenly sound of a human voice.
Shame crept in on the panic of his soul; shame and something that stiffened it into the courage of a man.

He felt his cheeks burn with the flush that stained them, and he slowly lowered the receiver into its hook.
With his hands thrust deep into his pockets and his mouth pulled down at the corners, he stood leaning back against the desk shelf and forced himself to look down across the wooded slopes to the valley, where a light twinkled now like a fallen star.

After a while he found that he could see once more the beauty, and not so much the loneliness.

Then, just to prove to himself that he was not going to be bluffed by the silence, he began to whistle.