Why had the affair not been telegraphed?
Why were busy men like himself brought out of the city when they could not get on to do their work?
There were other voices besides Gilby's to rail; there were other voices besides Zilda's to explain the disaster.

In the midst of the babel Zilda slipped away to make muffins hastily for Gilby's breakfast.

Her heart was singing within her, but it was a tremulous song, half dazed with delight, half frightened, fearing that with his great cleverness he would see some way to proceed on his journey although she saw none.
When she came out of the kitchen with the muffins in her hand her sunshine suddenly clouded.

Gilby, unconscious that a special breakfast was preparing for him, had hastily swallowed coffee and walked on to the site of the breakdown to see for himself how long the mending would take.
It was as if one, looking through long hours for the ending of night, had seen the sunrise, only to see the light go out suddenly again in darkness.

Zilda felt that her heart was broken.