"Frank, Eddie brought me some letters from home—from England, I mean—to-day. I've had an offer of a job back in England."
He got up slowly and went over to the corner where the broom hung to get some straws to run through the mouthpiece of his pipe. His face was turned from her, so that she could not see that he had closed his eyes for a moment and that his mouth was drawn with pain.
When he turned he had resumed his ordinary expression. His voice was perfectly steady when he spoke:
"An offer of a job? Gee! I guess you'll jump at that."
"It's funny it should have come just when you had been talking of my going away."
"Very."
Not even a comment. Oh, why didn't he say that he would be glad to have her gone, and be done with it! Anything, almost, would be easier to bear than this total lack of interest. She tried another tack.
"Have you any—any objection?"
"I guess it wouldn't make a powerful lot of difference to you if I had." He could actually smile, his good-natured, indulgent smile, which she knew so well.
"What makes you think that?"