Again he laughed. "But why die? Why not be sensible and live?"
"I don't know," replied she. She was looking away dreamily, and her eyes were wonderful to see. "There are many things I feel and do—and I don't at all understand why. But—" An expression of startling resolution flashed across her face. "But I do them, just the same."
A brief silence; then, as she again moved toward the door, he said, "You have been working for some time?"
"Four years."
"You support yourself?"
"I work to help out father's income. He makes almost enough, but not quite."
Almost enough! The phrase struck upon Norman's fancy as both amusing and sad. Almost enough for what? For keeping body and soul together; for keeping body barely decently clad. Yet she was content. He said:
"You like to work?"
"Not yet. But I think I shall when I learn this business. One feels secure when one has a trade."
"It doesn't impress me as an interesting life for a girl of your age," he suggested.