Again, he glanced in her direction, but she was still staring at the floor. Luckily, she had Jimmy; they were living together—at least, he had taken that much for granted by putting her story and the bakery scandal side by side. They were suited to each other. What could or should she have to do with such a thing as an artist? Perhaps, the novelty in their short affair had appealed to her. She was a greedy nature. She craved everything: sun, moon, stars and all. He himself had only been one of them. This conjecture satisfied him considerably. And he breathed with returning freedom.
She looked up. He smiled. She smiled too. And he breathed still more freely.
“What have you been doing lately?” he questioned cheerfully.
“I’ve been busy straightenin’ out,” she replied, and looked at him.
He moved restlessly. There was a second pause, but only a short one.
“You’ve been busy too,” she said.
“Oh yes, I—I’ve been working on a story.”
“What kind of a story?”
“Merely a foolish little affair about a foolish little affair,” he hastened to condemn.
Her glance dropped. His work and her own lived apart. “I brought back ‘Little Eyolf’.”