“Don’t ask me to explain now. I resigned, and I’m glad I did. Please don’t hurry away. I want to talk with you.”
He pulled the chair out for her.
“You must excuse my abruptness, Freda,” he continued. “But I’ve got to talk with you.”
“What is wrong?” she enquired seriously.
“Just everything. I’m all up in arms against the universe, I think.”
Life looked dark. He had thrown over, in his rebellion, the helpfulness of Freeman’s friendship. Vaguely he knew that the solution of his troubles lay in getting down to work, some sort of helpful work. But this was not the only ray of light that began to penetrate.
He had no idea how he should broach the subject that was torturing him. He loved her dark eyes and her lips that tenderly tried to understand his mood. She had been in his deep heart for months. He was at a loss to know how to begin. He glanced at the window as if the bald light of the dull May noon were an intruder. He listened to laughter from downstairs as if it conspired to hinder him.
“Freda,” he said, pressing her hand as it lay on the desk. “I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time.”
Her serious face did not disappoint him. It quivered into exquisite understanding that brought fine rims of moisture to her eyes. Mauney could not continue, for the memory of Lee was making him sad.
“I’m going away somewhere, Freda,” he said presently. “I don’t know where, but I’m through with Merlton. I’ve got to find my niche. I’ve got to go away from you, too. Please, try to understand how hard it is to go.”