“Mayn’t I say the same of you? What’s done it?”
She laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. Work, I suppose—and the knowledge that things are marching.”
“I hear you’re very busy.”
“I hear you’re busy, too.”
“People do seem to want to be told things at first hand.”
“I find the same.”
“And so one has to be on the job.”
“There’s nothing like it, is there? It”—she flung me one of her old, quick, daring glances—“it fills all the needs. Nothing else becomes urgent.”
“You mean that one’s personal affairs—”