"Oh, that's a little private matter of my own!" He stared at her, unable to comprehend, and she went on gravely: "Howard, you must do what's best for yourself. I'll pack your things. You can go when you please——"
He stared gloomily out of the window without replying. After all, he thought to himself, it was perhaps for the best. Shackled as he was now, he would never be able to accomplish anything. If they separated, his father would take him at once into his business. Life would begin for him all over again. It would be better for her, too. Of course, he would never forget her. He would provide for her comfort. His father would help him arrange for that. Lighting a cigarette, he said carelessly:
"Well—perhaps you're right. Maybe a little trip through Europe won't do me any harm."
"Of course not," she said simply.
Busy with an obstinate match, he did not hear the sigh that accompanied her words or see the look of agony that crossed her face.
"But what are you going to do?" he inquired after a silence.
With an effort, she controlled her voice. Not for all the world would she betray the fact that her heart was breaking. With affected indifference, she replied:
"Oh, I shall be all right. I shall go and live somewhere in the country for a few months. I'm tired of the city."
"So am I," he rejoined, with a gesture of disgust. "But I hate like the deuce to leave you alone."
"That's nothing," she said hastily. "A trip abroad is just what you need." Looking up at him, she added: "Your face has brightened up already!"