 Why does Hank wait for Edith to leave before he changes clothes?
There was the usual welcoming crowd for a celebrity, and the usual speeches by the usual politicians who met him at the airport which had once been twenty miles outside of Croton, but which the growing city had since engulfed and placed well within its boundaries. There he sat between the mayor and a nervous young coed chosen as homecoming queen, and looked out at the police and fire department bands, the National Guard, the boy scouts and girl scouts, the Elks and Masons. He wanted a meal at his own table, a kiss from his wife, a word from his son, and later to see some old friends and a relative or two. The head of the American Legion and the chief of police, who had escorted him on this trip from the square, didn't ask to go in with him. So he put him down and told himself that it would all change, that everything would loosen up just as his commanding officer, General Carlisle, had said it would early this morning before he left Washington. Edith was leading him into the living room, her hand lying still in his, a cool, dead bird lying still in his. Carlisle had said his position was analogous to Columbus', to Vasco De Gama's, to Preshoff's when the Russian returned from the Moon—but more so. Edith said, "He made top forum the six-month period before vacation, and he made top forum the six-month period you went away, Hank." Without waiting for an answer, he waved his hand—it shook; a ten-year-old boy's hand that shook—and ran from the room and from the house. The body scars were faint, the scars running in long lines, one dissecting his chest, the other slicing diagonally across his upper abdomen to disappear under his trousers. Which was not what he'd considered at all important on leaving Walter Reed Hospital early this morning; which was something he found distasteful, something he felt beneath them both. And, at the same time, he began to understand that there would be many things, previously beneath them both, which would have to be considered. After all, he was still Henry Devers, the same man who had left home eleven months ago, with a love for family and friends which was, if anything, stronger than before. Together with Edith, Ralphie and himself, they made six, and ate in the dining room at the big table.
 He doesn't want Edith to see the scars on his body. It will just remind her he died.
 Edith bought separate beds while he was gone. Undressing in front of her may make her uncomfortable.  The new bedroom arrangement put them in separate beds. He doesn't want Edith to feel uncomfortable by his undressing.  He doesn't want Edith to see the scars on his body. It will just remind her he died.  He doesn't want Edith to see the scars on his body. Scars may put a damper on the romance.