It grew to be a little earlier every evening.
"By-and-by he will not go down-town at all, at this rate," I said to myself, when I heard his ring that night.
I was sitting by the parlor-lamp, with the evening paper in my lap, of which I had not read a word.

He came and sat down by the table, and we talked a little while.

I tried to find things to talk about, and wondered if it always would be so.

I felt as if some day I should give out entirely, and have to go through bankruptcy.

(And take a fresh start.) He never seemed to feel the want of talking; I suppose he was quite satisfied with his thoughts, and with having me beside him.
By-and-by, he said he should have to go up to the library, and look over the last of some books of my uncle's, and finish an inventory that he had begun.