"You might come closer," she suggested. "I really don't feel strong enough to-day to converse with you through a megaphone."
He seated himself gingerly on the edge of the chair she indicated, looking everywhere but at Joan.
"Oh, Archie!" she cried, suddenly tremulous, "wasn't it terrible?"
He started. "Terrible" was not the word in his mind. "Outrageous," perhaps—but by no means terrible! "W-what?" he said.
"Why, the accident! Poor, poor Lizzie! Was there anything left of her at all?"
He found his voice. "Oh, Lizzie? Well, not much except her license tag."
"Her poor precious little license tag!... Well, that will be useful anyway, for the new machine."
He shook his head. "I guess there isn't going to be any new machine."
"Oh!" she flushed with quick sympathy. "You mean you—you can't afford another?"
"Why, I guess the railroad company'd help to buy me another if I wanted it—the engineer didn't signal for that crossing. But—I don't. You see," he murmured, looking down, "there were—well, there were sort of associations with Lizzie."