noon
Thayer spent a quiet , contented day . For the time being , he had dismissed Lorimer from his mind , and he gave himself up to the luxury of taking thought for no one but himself . The sensation was very luxurious from its very novelty . He wrote a long letter to Arlt , responded to a dozen notes of invitation which had pursued him from the city , loitered about the office and ended the day with a novel which had reached him when the mail came in , that noon . It was still early when he went to bed . As he drew the shades , from sheer force of habit he glanced across at the cottage . Its lights were burning brightly , their quiet steadiness giving no hint of the hideous carnival within .