Roger was in trouble. He never sat so, his head bowed, his hands clenched like that. For days Katya had felt something in him that eluded her; something strange had entered their relationship, the old frankness was gone. It had gone from the night she counseled his leaving Anne, but they had not mentioned the subject again, and since then Katya had moved in an uncertainty of his motive that had been like a stone wall about her. At every move she had touched it and it had sent strange hopes and fears through her.
Now, she leaned across her machine, her lips parted. Something was forming from these days of uncertainty, coming toward her. Katya held her place before her machine by an effort that at last forced from her a low cry. At the sound, Roger turned slowly toward her, his own problem in his eyes. They looked so for a moment at each other, then Katya's hands trembled and she rose. His muscles had answered, but his real concern was far away. Her lips quivered.
"What is it?" she demanded angrily. "Why are you staring at me like that?"
Her voice drew Roger's consciousness. He shook his head as if physically throwing aside something that held him in its grip and said with pitiful assumption of his usual cheerfulness:
"Was I staring at you unpleasantly, Katya? I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to."
Katya came toward him. If she did not reach physical proximity, in a moment the old camaraderie would rise and shut off this thing Katya felt forming for the first time clearly between them. Coming to the window ledge, the same ledge on which she had counseled his leaving Anne, Katya lit a cigarette and said with forced calm:
"What's the matter? Can I help?"
"N-o—nothing's the matter. I——" Roger broke off.
"You're lying," Katya replied calmly. "Something has happened. Something—very—big to you."
For a second Roger stiffened in resentment of her assurance. It was like the first time he had ever seen her, when her certainty had annoyed him. Then the memory of all the past months of friendship and understanding, shamed the insincerity of denial. He picked the lawyer's letter from the floor and handed it to her. Katya read it and without the least change of expression returned it, but her whole squat body trembled violently and only by drawing deeply on the cigarette could she maintain an outward semblance of poise.