There was another pause.
“Well, I shall miss yer, Freddy, boy,” said the young doctor.
“And I shall miss thee, Jack,” returned the other.
“Miss you like hell,” mused the doctor.
Fred Henry turned aside. There was nothing to say. Mabel came in again, to finish clearing the table.
“What are you going to do, then, Miss Pervin?” asked Fergusson. “Going to your sister’s, are you?”
Mabel looked at him with her steady, dangerous eyes, that always made him uncomfortable, unsettling his superficial ease.
“No,” she said.
“Well, what in the name of fortune are you going to do? Say what you mean to do,” cried Fred Henry, with futile intensity.
But she only averted her head, and continued her work. She folded the white table-cloth, and put on the chenille cloth.