"Oh, I was forgetting to put it in. Thanks."
When I went for it she was holding it in her hand.
"What a queer, cheap-looking thing! Where on earth did you get it?"
"I suppose it was at Tours, with the other things, when—"
"Oh yes! I remember." She moved toward the door. "Your other brushes, the ebony ones with the silver initials, that I gave you before—before we were married, are here. They were with the things found on the bank of that— They forwarded them to me. Shouldn't you—shouldn't you like them?"
"Thanks, no. This sort of common thing suits me better."
I was doing the last things about the room. She was standing with her hand on the knob of the door, which was half open.
"And when you're back in New York, Billy, doing that kind of thing you talk about, shall you be all alone?"
A second's reflection convinced me that it was best to be clear about everything.
"At first."