"That's just what I'm thinking about."
"What, my dressmaking?"
"Yes, about what you've been saying. Things aren't the same now as they have been, and I want you to see it."
"I don't see the good," pouted Jessie. "Look! Is that a chaffinch?"
"You've got to listen to me, Jessie, and I've got to say it. Don't you see, you can go on making money now and laying it by, and I can't. I shan't be able for ever so long. Every penny that I earn will have to go to keeping my mother in comfort, and the children. They'll just all depend on me."
"Well?" Jessie said. She hung her head so that he could not see her face, and the tone sounded cold.
"I can't tell how long it may be. And it don't seem to me—I should be right—to let you go on—not knowing—nor—"
Jack's faltering suggestions were nipped. Jessie raised her head, looked him in the face, and said tersely: "So you want to break it off? Very well."
"Jessie!" Jack had not expected this, and he was dumbfounded. He knew now how certain he had felt in his heart of what her answer might be, and the disappointment was great. A black cloud seemed to have settled down upon him.
Jessie said no more, and they walked on side by side. Jack's shoulders were rounded, and he dragged his feet like an old man. Jessie hung her head once more, and a keen observer, glancing under her hat-brim, might have detected a small smile quivering at the corners of her mouth.